


Sleeping hearts often wander

by Bommie20



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Angst, Blood, Gee Sora how come Nomura lets you have five hearts?, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, No shipping, Oof ouch my feels, Panic Attacks, Sharing a Body, Sleepwalking, Sora has lots of people who care about him, Sora's Heart Hotel, Sora's asleep anyway, Sort Of, Soul-Searching, just in chapter 3, just in chapter 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-06 01:53:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 33,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18841231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bommie20/pseuds/Bommie20
Summary: Sora's heart seemed to have a hard time staying still while he slept, but it always managed to find its way back home. Still, when your heart is carrying four others with it, a moment of rest for one is an opportunity for another willing to take the plunge. Sora sure has been sleepwalking a lot these days...Ventus wakes after ten years to a world that has moved on without him.Roxas is worried that his existence will have dire consequences for his Other.Xion can't tell where she ends and Sora begins anymore.Vanitas just wants out, and will do whatever it takes to get what he wants.





	1. Ventus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to anyone reading this after finishing re:Live... re:Start! My writing has significantly improved since beginning my ridiculous 155,000-word novel, and this story could do with a little zhuzhing. Please bear with me while I give it a fresh coat of paint and a spit-shine. The rewrite of chapter one added well over 2,000 words, so it’s now much closer in length to the rest of the story. The quotes section of the KH wiki totally co-authored this story btw

Ventus couldn't remember the last time he was awake.

The niggling doubts lingering at the edge of his consciousness insisted that he should be far more concerned than he was. Ventus' mind felt fuzzy as if the space between his ears was packed with cotton wool, and he couldn't conjure the willpower to question his apathy. The gaping void between waking hours just didn't seem all that strange to him. He clumsily rubbed the rheum from the corner of each eye and cautiously peeled them open. Nothing unusual. The sliver of green light snaking beneath the doorframe cast opaque shadows that drowned the room in darkness.  Perhaps his eyes had grown lazy from disuse. With a booming yawn and a satisfying pop of his jaw, Ventus threw his bedsheets back over himself and unceremoniously rolled over to face the wall. If the world wanted him to rise and shine, then the world could wait five more minutes.

As far as Ventus was concerned, anything that had occurred before the moment he awoke might as well be lost to the sands of time. Heavy storm clouds engulfed his memories like a woollen blanket; not even the tiniest sunbeam could pierce through and grant him insight. The blond had just come into existence mere moments ago, opening his eyes for the first time like a newborn baby. That was perfectly normal... right? He shouldn't be so perturbed by the inky ocean pooled around his memories, so why was his heart about to burst from his chest? Why was it pounding as if driven by some intangible, primal fear? Ventus huffed to himself and stalled that train of thought before it left the station. If it was such a big deal, he could always pick Master Eraqus' brain in the morning. His mentor was just as short-tempered as he was wise, particularly if one of his students barged into his room in the middle of the ni-

Wait.

This wasn't the Land of Departure.

Ventus jolted upright, scattering bedsheets like rivulets of colourful cotton. He felt as if he had been dunked in water as frigid terror crept across his chest and stole his breath away. The memories lurking in the penumbra of his subconsciousness rushed to him all at once. The crushing chill that permeated his bones as Master Xehanort paralysed his battered body with ice. The glistening tears in the corners of Aqua's eyes as she stood between him and Braig like a living barricade. The ringing of Vanitas' laughter echoing inside his head as his brother puppeteered his body and turned him against those he loved. The voice of a child calling from beyond the veil of death and pulling him into a deep, dreamless slumber.

That was a memory Ventus was happy to leave behind.

But there was another intangible droplet of doubt that he just couldn't shake off. The half-formed χ-Blade birthed from his union with Vanitas was destroyed, lost to the abyss along with the siblings that fought over it... so shouldn't he be dead?

Ventus expected death to hurt. He had prepared himself for the most excruciating pain known to man, but there was only unending peace. He could sleep easy knowing his passing would allow his friends to continue on, even if they had to do it without him. Ventus would make the same decision over and over again without a second thought. That alone was worth all the Munny in the world. His only regret was that he would never have the chance to become a Keyblade Master. His memory would forever live in the shadows of his friends.

Ventus groaned and put his head in his hands. His mind was stuffed to the brim with pillowy yarn. Was this the afterlife? Or was his brain still entrenched in sleep? The blond reached into the depths of his psyche, but all that greeted him was static. Something was there, hiding in the darkest crevasse of his mind where his light couldn't reach. Something had happened to him after he and Vanitas lost their hearts to the darkness, and he hadn't died. He was sure of it. Pins and needles ran down his fingertips as Ventus clenched and unclenched his fists, watching blue-tinted veins shift beneath his skin. They were once so incredibly numb, nerves muffled by the darkness that crept into every fibre of his being until even his name was a whisper in the wind. From somewhere beyond the event horizon radiated an intense warmth: a star so bright that shadows were banished in the blink of an eye. Ventus felt his skin burning under the powerful rays of light, but it brought sensation back to his deadened limbs. The star held out its arms as if greeting an old friend, and Ventus tumbled headfirst into its embrace. His heart recognised the source of the light, but his mind couldn't hold onto the name...

**_You don't remember my name? Thanks a lot, Kairi!_ **

The hairs on the back of Ventus' neck stood to attention like rows of soldiers. His breath caught in his throat, and his heart skipped a beat. He tore his hands away from his face, ready to launch himself at whoever dared approach him while he was sleeping. The room was empty. Ventus' eyes scoured every opaque shadow creeping across the floor, but found nothing. The only illumination came from an artificial green glow peeking beneath the doorframe, accompanied by the gentle humming of machinery from somewhere unseen.

**_I'll give you a hint. Start with an "S"._ **

Ventus let out a pained whine as the fuzziness in his head blossomed into a severe migraine. His ears were deafened by high-pitched ringing, and he was sure his eyes were vibrating in his skull with the pressure. Ventus' already limited vision sparked as he dug the heels of his palms into his eyesockets, imprinting waltzing afterimages onto his retinas. He could've sworn the pain continued on forever, but something in his soul abruptly clicked into place and it was over in an instant. Ventus found himself face down on the floor, having tumbled out of bed as he wrestled with the sudden onset of pain.

What in the hell was going on…?

Ventus tentatively pulled himself to his feet, his stomach swimming with swelling nausea. His body felt so foreign; legs too short, arms too muscular, hair too long. Ventus was a stranger in his own skin. What was wrong with him?! He felt cripplingly alone, lost in a world that he no longer recognised. Ventus was no coward, but sometimes he needed to remind himself to be brave. Courage came so naturally to Terra and Aqua, but they never allowed their friend to feel inferior. He could almost hear Aqua now, whispering reassuring words in his ear; _"bravery is not the absence of fear, but the power to overcome it."_ Ventus needed Terra and Aqua to come for him. They would know what to do. They always did.

Wait, Terra and Aqua!

Ventus practically launched himself out of the room, almost knocking the door off its hinges as he burst into the hallway. He had no idea what happened to Terra and Aqua after hitting the self-destruct button on the χ-Blade and throwing his soul to the wolves. They would be so happy to see him alive! Ventus nearly tripped over his own feet as he scurried down a set of rickety wooden stairs, each board bent at a different angle and creaking with every step. He was alive! They could put Master Xehanort behind them and go back to the Land of Departure. Terra could finish his Mark of Mastery. Heck, maybe they'd even let _him_ take it this time! Ventus could see it now: three Keyblade Masters, travelling to the farthest limits of the Ocean Between and braving uncharted worlds. The unbreakable trio, side by side. Just the thought filled his heart to the brim with joy.

"Aqua! Terra!" Ventus yelled, exploding into the front room unannounced. His voice rang throughout the quiet house like a chiming bell.

The room was completely empty.

Or at least, it was unoccupied. Signs of life occupied every corner of the room, haphazardly shoved wherever space could be found until the walls threatened to overflow. An enormous computer screen spilled ghostly green light across the floor, the same tinge that leered beneath the bedroom door. Hats and coats hung from the doorframe, strewn across chairs and stools when space became scarce. A heavy weapon propped upright in the corner like a sentinel, longer than Ventus was tall and wrapped in... bandages?

The elation gripping Ventus' body screeched to a jarring halt as his mind began to register the contents of the room. A table with a steaming hot kettle and cup of herbal tea? Bookshelves sagging under the weight of countless magical tomes? A pointed blue wizard's hat?! The smile slowly slid off the blond's face. Even through the gaps in his memories, Ventus knew that he didn't recognise this place. His feet had never disturbed the dust on these floorboards before. The only wizard he could recall meeting was Yen Sid, but the chaotic disarray would've sent shivers up the old warlock's spine. Where in the universe had the darkness spat him out...?

**_Higitus Figitus zumbakazing!  
I want your attention, everything!  
We’re unpacking to stay. Come on, let’s go!  
No, no, not you; books are always first, you know._ **

A flash of pain behind Ventus' eyes sent images of books dancing through the air from within a bottomless bag rushing across his vision. The illusion vanished as soon as he blinked, leaving him sorrowfully alone once more. Ventus winced sharply and shook it off. He was an apprentice of Master Eraqus, a skilled Keyblade Wielder and defender of the light. His resolve would not be weakened by whatever was playing mind games on him. He must've been split up from the others during his fight against Vanitas. If Terra and Aqua weren't here - wherever _'here'_ was - then he would just check the next world. Maybe even the one after that. Aqua promised that the magic in his Wayfinder would bring them all together no matter what, and Ventus didn't doubt her words for one second. It didn't matter how many worlds he had to traipse through. He would find his friends, and they would go home hand-in-hand.

The claws of fear that once gripped Ventus' heart steadily retracted as his determination returned in a blaze of glory. He gave a curt nod and stood up straight, pushing out his chest in triumph and placing his hand on the pauldron worn on his left shoulder. His Keyblade Armour and Glider would prove crucial if he wanted any chance of escaping the world he had found himself in. The Ocean Between was nigh impossible to navigate, but the blond could make his way to Neverland by following the second star to the right. That would give him a place to start. Grazing the cold, coarse metal with his fingertips, Ventus reached down into the depths of his heart and-

He wasn't wearing his pauldron.

Funnily enough, it hadn't occurred to Ventus that he should've checked if he was wearing clothes before charging around a mystery house. His mind had been just a tiny bit preoccupied with more pressing matters, such as whether he was **dead** or not. Looking down at himself, Ventus was clad in black pants that clung loosely to his calves, wrapped with canary-yellow belts and straps. The skin of his shins and arms held a soft, sun-kissed tan, warmed by the touch of islander sunshine. Strands of chocolate hair crossed his vision, sweeping carelessly in front of his eyes. Ventus brushed them aside without thinking about it. His mind didn't immediately recognise that anything was wrong.

"Sora? Is everything OK?"

Ventus spun on his heels, shoulders tense and eyes wide as something descended the stairs behind him, filling the placid air with heavy thumping. His Keyblade hand twitched, ready to summon Wayward Wind and defend himself. As far as he knew, these people had kidnapped him and stripped him of his armour. If they knew the power held within that single piece of metal, it would be game over. Even worse, they had put him in the ugliest clothes he had ever seen! Ventus' heart was torn between two extremes; the desire to face the villain that had taken him captive raged against the urge to run for his life. He would be of no use to Terra and Aqua if he found himself in chains. Perhaps a living coward was better than a dead hero. The thought left a bitter taste in the blond Keyblade wielder's mouth, but this was no time to fall prey to his emotions.

Before he could be caught and detained by the figure closing in on his position, Ventus slipped through the front door and out into the world beyond.

At least it was a pleasant night.

The cool night breeze delicately kissed Ventus' cheeks, reddened from exertion and frustration, brushing away the cobwebs and clearing the bleariness lingering in his head. His nose wrinkled as the smell of dirt and cement swarmed his nostrils, barely masked behind the saccharine scent of flowers spilling from every open window. The moon hovered above his head like a glowing eyeball, surrounded by the faint flickering of countless stars. Ventus breathed a sigh of relief. Every star in the night sky was the light of a different world; the sight of so many dots winking back at him must mean that Xehanort's plan had failed. His only regret was that he couldn't be there to watch it all come tumbling down.

Ventus' midnight reverie was abruptly shattered as the footsteps reached the bottom of the staircase. He could hear their owner slowly pacing around the room as if stalking their escaped captive, hunting for movement in the shadows. The blond grumbled under his breath and sprinted away as fast as his legs could carry him, bolting around a corner and out of sight. He would come back when he had gained his bearings, and **boy** would they be sorry for stealing his stuff. Metal pipes and pistons wound up the brick walls like the twisted ivy of the Enchanted Dominion, threatening to sweep his legs at any moment. Ventus reluctantly put his friends on the backburner - his first priority was figuring out where he was. If he was spat from a wormhole at the edge of the universe, who knows what could’ve happened to Aqua and Terra! Ventus knew his friends needed him just as much as he needed them, though they would always stubbornly disagree. Terra would scoff and cross his arms, reaffirming his undisputable strength but never denying his need for companionship. Aqua would put her 'Mom face' on and break into a lecture about how they were a team and-

**_Right, my friends! There's two of 'em. The loud one is Dona-- You know what? Never mind. I'm looking for my friends, Riku and Kairi._ **

Ventus dug his heels into the concrete paving and skidded to a halt, sending dust and sand billowing into the air in a dense cloud. That voice was still following him, clawing at his brain and strangling it of oxygen. Every time his mind wandered, those incorporeal words echoed inside his head until his own thoughts were reduced to a whisper. Were his kidnappers stalking him, giggling to themselves as he descended deeper and deeper into madness?

"Who's there?!" Ventus demanded of the vacant alleyway, channelling Terra's imposing presence in his words. **"SHOW YOURSELF!"**

The only reply was the echo of Ventus' own voice resonating throughout the sidestreet. His sky-blue eyes flicked around aggressively, but the forest of rickety houses was impenetrable. Not even a single meagre Unversed sprung from the darkness. The blond almost hungered for an attacker, just so he would have something to direct his frustrations towards. The owner of the disembodied voice seemed determined not to give him that satisfaction.

Ventus let out a dangerous growl and extended his right arm behind his back. His Keyblade manifested in his grasp with a flurry of sparks, illuminating the darkened alley with a powerful flash. They may have taken his armour, but he could still fight! If his stalker refused to reveal themselves, then he would flush them out of hiding like the rats they were.

"COWARD!"

**_Maybe everything we've done... maybe it was for nothing. What am I supposed to do if I can't use the Keyblade?_ **

Ventus' knees almost buckled under his weight as a splitting headache shot across his skull, digging into his brain and ripping it apart. The pain ricocheted throughout his chest as if his heart had burst into flames. His blood boiled in his veins and his lungs turned to ash, but Ventus refused to fall victim to the panic pooling in his stomach. The blanks in his memory didn't matter: the blond had clawed his way up from the jaws of death, and he was not going back without a fight. The weight of Wayward Wind in his right hand was like an anchor in stormy seas, a stalwart knight that remained by his side without uttering a single complaint. Unversed or not, his stalker would taste the metal of his Keyblade if it dared antagonise him. Ventus resented resorting to aggression, but his back was up against the wall. He tightened his backwards grip, warmth trickling up his forearm as the hilt began to heat up, and steeled himself for the inevitable attack.

Ventus noticed it almost immediately. The straining muscles in his wrist and the metal guard digging uncomfortably into his skin. Wayward Wind was the only Keyblade forged with a reverse grip, designed to be wielded with its teeth behind its master. Ventus found that any weapon fashioned without his unique stance in mind would chafe his skin and leave dark purple bruises up his arm. Technically speaking, any Keyblade could be handled backwards if the user tried hard enough, but the Wayward Wind was an extension of his own will. It was too lightweight to ever deliver a heavy blow, and the curved guard often deflected attacks in strange directions, but Ventus would never choose any other Keyblade. Its speed was unparalleled, and the blade had never once dented or chipped, no matter how many times he hurled it across the room in a Strike Raid.

So why did Wayward Wind suddenly feel so foreign to his touch?

It was far too lightweight for his tendons to be groaning in pain as they struggled to support the Keyblade’s newfound mass. The guard was too finely curved to be chafing against his forearm, tugging uncomfortably on his skin with every movement. And it certainly never felt hot to the touch...

Ventus yelped as the gentle, thrumming warmth exploded into angry heat as if his palm was filled with smouldering coals. His Keyblade slipped from his grasp and clattered against the stone cobbles below his feet as he stared at his hand, expecting to find his fingers blackened by flames. His skin was completely untouched, protected by black leather gloves worn away at the palm by years of Keyblade use. The blond hissed as the intense heat receded until he wasn't sure if he hadn't just imagined the whole thing. His mind was no longer his own, beseeched by images and voices that his heart recognised but his brain couldn't recall. Wayward Wind had never once rejected his touch. Was he sick? Cursed?

No. It wasn't his Keyblade. The weapon lying before his feet was straight as an arrow, glowing ethereal silver under the pale light of the moon. Its teeth were moulded in the shape of a crown, and its hilt glimmered as if constructed of solid gold. Ventus' mouth was so dry that he could barely swallow. He backed away from the blade with his right hand clutched towards his chest in a tight fist. The imposter Keyblade vanished in a burst of light, only to reappear in his possession moments later.

**_Yes, the Keyblade's Chosen One._ **

**_So, THIS is the Key…_ **

Ventus felt sick. He was trapped in a world he didn't know, plagued by visions he didn't understand. He had no armour, no Keyblade, and no friends to back him up. The silver blade had returned to his hand of its own will, yet it stung his skin like acid as it rejected his touch. Ventus clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white and willed the Keyblade to just go away and leave him alone. The weapon was more than happy to comply, disintegrating into particles of light that disappeared between the cracks in the paving stones. The blond felt the pattern of the leather grip seared into his palm through his glove, though he doubted any marks had been left behind.

Just what had happened to his heart? Why did it no longer feel like his own?

Ventus slammed the brakes on his spiralling thoughts and took a deep breath. Every brain cell was screaming at him to freak out, get angry, do _something_ other than stand there, but he couldn't stop imagining the disappointed expressions on Terra's and Aqua's faces. He had once proclaimed himself worthy of the title of Keyblade Master, and it was time he acted like one. Maybe he was dreaming, or maybe he was still dead. Either way, having a breakdown in an alley was not going to get him anywhere. He needed Terra's strength, Aqua's wisdom, Master Eraqus' resolve.

_Eraqus._

Ventus sharply turned and stormed off, leaving any thoughts of his master behind. He wasn't ready to face what happened in the courtyard that day. The steeled expression on his mentor's face as he fought down the tears, aiming his Keyblade at Ventus' heart to murder him where he stood. The darkness that swallowed Terra whole, driving him to enact the same fate upon the man he once called 'father'. It was just another notch in his axe, another situation where the universe had woven a web around Ventus and he was helpless to struggle free. A vision of the night sky appeared as the blond mindlessly climbed a short flight of stairs, the sound of concrete crunching with every step echoing down empty alleyways. There wasn't a single cloud in the sky, allowing the moon to shine with its true glory. It was funny, even across every world Ventus had visited, the sky never changed. The same old moon, the same old stars. He took comfort knowing there was something in his chaotic world that would always remain the same.

**_Two worlds, one sky._ **

This place triggered some fond memories hiding in the crevasses of Ventus' heart. His legs broke into a jog as renewed energy surged through his muscles. He had wandered upon a makeshift market square, lined with rickety shacks and sheltered on all sides by war-torn battlements. What a strange place, for its denizens to go about their business undeterred by the fortifications that loomed overhead. The stalls were so haphazardly thrown together that a single gust of wind could've toppled them to the ground, but the atmosphere buzzed with life. Benches were wiped clean, signs were hung out to attract customers, there was even a shop for his favourite sea salt ice cream! Ventus licked his lips at the thought.

**_It's salty… but so sweet!_ **

Wait, now he remembered this place!

Ventus' heart leapt into his chest as he almost threw himself over the battlements, desperate to catch a glimpse of what lay beyond the brick walls. He remembered the castle that pierced the sky, the enormous vault that hid sweet treats from prying eyes, the winding streets and glowing lanterns on every corner. This was Radiant Garden! Ventus released a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding – this was a world he recognised after all. Terra and Aqua always complained about 'responsibilities' and the 'order of worlds', but he knew deep down they loved sea salt ice cream just as much as he did. It never took much convincing for the three to put their duties as Keyblade wielders to the side, and the temptation of ice cream didn't hurt. Ventus let out a quiet chuckle and crossed his arms on the exposed stone wall, resting his chin on his forearms and staring wistfully at the stars above. Now that Xehanort's scheming had been squashed, the three actually had a chance of returning to the days spent dreaming about the future. For a while, Ventus had given up all hope of reliving those cherished moments. Perhaps, for once in his life, everything would turn out alright. 

...

There was something still not quite right. Ventus’ heart was lost in idyllic dreaming, but his mind still ticked away like a time bomb. He had spent countless hours in the market square of Radiant Garden, half-listening to Aqua dictate battle strategies while he and Terra goofed off. The three practically had a table reserved for them, their faces were so well known to the locals. The Radiant Garden he knew was opulent and grand, aromatic flowers hanging in baskets from every window and the perpetual smell of freshly baked goods in the air. The city Ventus found himself stranded in was a war zone, stone walls crumbling into dust and holes patched with sheets of smudged steel. Miles of irradiated purple land stretched out from the borders of the city to the horizon like a disease. Even the illustrious castle facade was dampened by broken windows and missing chunks that exposed the palace interiors to the elements. Why did everything feel so off? His clothes, his Keyblade, and now the world he was in? The puzzle pieces were almost lined up to form a complete image, but the edges didn't quite match. How could a place feel so familiar and yet so antagonistic at the same time? It was like Ventus had visited his childhood home, only to find a different family living in his place and they'd moved all the furniture around.

Everything about this situation belonged to someone else… but who?

**_First one to the boat gets to be captain! C'mon! You call that running?_ **

**_That's weird. It's like something's squeezing me inside._ **

**_Hey… can you hear me?_ **

Ventus was so overwhelmingly tired. He'd only opened his eyes just moments ago, yet was already running on empty. If he allowed his eyelids to slip closed, the sweet song of sleep filled his ears and lured him down where nothing existed and he could tumble into endless black. Ventus' heart was fractured, but all the pieces were within reach. They just needed to be put back together. But if that was true, then whose heart was beating in his chest? Whose heart was bound to that silver Keyblade, whose heart resonated with this world and called it home? Because it sure as hell wasn't his.

Reluctantly sliding down from his perch with a sigh, Ventus turned back towards the deserted square. His limbs were like solid blocks of concrete, dragging him down to the earth with every step. All he could think about was climbing back into that bed, back into the warm arms of sleep; just like the embrace of light that plucked his soul from the void and saved his life. His exhaustion was so great that he no longer considered the dangers of returning to the house he had awoken in or the threat of the shades who lurked inside. Even the best Keyblade Masters need a decent night's sleep. Terra was the biggest grump in the galaxy when his beauty sleep was cut short. Ventus chuckled lightly to himself and sheepishly rubbed the bridge of his nose. The best Keyblade Masters… just like himself, huh?

He began his slow saunter across the market square until his eyes hovered over what seemed to be a community signboard. Gaudy posters for events and adverts for local stores were pinned to the corkboard, plastered in neon colours to attract the attention of passers-by. It had worked on Ventus, at least. His young mind was inexplicably drawn to the explosion of hues and he wandered over, shivering as the cold night air washed over his exposed shins. His sky-blue eyes trailed over the posters; something about a 'Struggle' championship being held in a city he didn't recognise called 'Twilight Town'. If this really was Radiant Garden, maybe there was some kind of local event that would lead Aqua and Terra to him. Ventus could leap out of the crowd and scream **"SURPRISE!"** with a stick of sea salt ice cream in each hand. Terra would recognise how strong he had become, how he could hold his own in battle and finally accompany the duo on missions. Aqua would pretend to be upset at his disappearance, but she would pat him on the shoulder and admit that she never lost faith in him. The three would fly their Keybalde Gliders into the sunset, the long-awaited beginning of a new chapter in their lives. He could barely wait.

Ventus was ready to resume his trek across the ruined city until his eyes fell upon a calendar tacked to the signboard. A dog-eared photograph of a group of friend smiling and laughing together displayed the date. A woman with brown curls and sunshine in her eyes, a man with spiky blond hair and an expression that could melt steel, a boy with wild, untamed chocolate locks and a disturbingly familiar key in hand. Just looking at the boy's face was enough to send shards of pain shooting through Ventus' skull. Of course, the date was the most crucial pa-

_The date._

Ventus sunk to his knees.

Ten years.

It had been ten years.

The Radiant Garden he knew was in the past, left to wither away until it was a shell of its former glory. No wonder the castle was so run down, the buildings derelict and walls crumbling. No wonder the winding cobbled streets seemed so familiar yet so hostile. No wonder he could barely remember anything, why he couldn't summon his own Keyblade, why his one remaining tether to his friends was hanging on by a thread.

Ventus had slept for ten years, and the universe had moved on without him.

**_I've been having these weird thoughts lately._ **

**_Like, is any of this for real, or not?_ **

* * *

Aerith hadn't slept well in years, even before Radiant Garden was swallowed by darkness

She was never the type to curse - such behaviour was vulgar and uncouth - but she could curse her inability to fight until she had no more words to give. Perhaps she was spending too much time around Cid, who had the mouth of a sailor and the patience of a lit fuse. Every world had a Lifestream coursing through the earth and nurturing the plants and creatures that called it home, though Aerith had never heard anyone else refer to it by that title. Whether it was 'Mother Nature', 'Gaia', or 'Terra Firma', the myriad of names all referred to the same phenomenon. As a Cetra, Aerith's connection to the lifeblood of the planet was stronger than most, but her heritage meant nothing in a world without Materia. The Lifestream was sealed behind the world's Keyhole, locked away from prying eyes and greedy hands in the depths of the castle. The beating heart of Radiant Garden would never see the light of day, and Aerith could only pray that it remained that way.

Instead, she did her best to make herself useful in other ways. She would supervise Leon and Cloud as they trained, reining in their competitive natures every time they became too enthusiastic and almost took the others head off. She would roam the twisting streets with Yuffie and Tifa, searching for treasure and secrets down every dark alley and behind every closed door. She would stock up Cid's workshop and pressure him into putting down the cigarettes and eating a decent meal every once in a while.

Aerith was determined to prove that her usefulness did not begin and end with her heritage. She was unsure if she was trying to prove it to the others, or to herself.

Aerith was the first to settle into their temporary home in Traverse Town after Radiant Garden was devoured by the Heartless. Rumours of grotesque experiments and wailing in the halls of the castle had spread throughout the town like wildfire, long before the Heartless poured through the palace gates and consumed everything in their path. Something had changed from the moment Xehanort was introduced to the apprentices of Ansem the Wise. Aerith worried every day that her friends would go to investigate and never come back. She fretted over Cloud whenever he disappeared to seek revenge against Sephiroth for the tenth time that month, returning bruised and beaten yet stubbornly alive. She would gladly trade every ounce of her Cetra blood if it could somehow protect those she loved. There was no price too steep.

Traverse Town was a fresh start for them. They were suddenly surrounded by people in the same awful situation – lost and confused after their homes and families were consumed by a tidal wave of Heartless. These people needed help, and it was exactly the kind of help that Aerith could provide. There was no demand for oversized swords or eco-terrorism in Traverse Town; just honest work and honest people. Aerith never ceased mourning the loss of her home, but every day spent within the walls of Traverse Town left her memories of the cobbled stone roads and regal gates of Radiant Garden feeling more and more faded.

Sora brought all those emotions back to the surface, for better or worse.

Aerith would never blame him for dragging up her feelings of helplessness or guilt. It wasn't his fault; the kid was just trying to do his best. Still, she was faced with the reality that this was yet another person she was powerless to help. She still remembered the first time they had crossed paths; the boy stumbled into Cid's shop, dazed and disoriented, rambling about a giant black monster and a friendly bloodhound with a green collar. This was a story Aerith had heard many times: countless children had washed up on the proverbial shores of Traverse Town before she had arrived, and many would for years to come. Cid insisted that he detested how kids would start poking around his stuff and breaking things, but the mechanic had a heart of gold beneath the layers of rust and dirt. Aerith had to physically stop him inviting wayward children to stay at their house before they ran out of space.

This child was different, though. He had the _Key._

Leon almost blasted the front door off its hinges in his haste to intercept Sora's tracks. Cid had only brought up the weapon in passing, but the colour immediately drained from the stoic mercenary's face at the mere mention of the silver key. The Keyblade was nothing more than a legend, the one weapon that could push back the tide of darkness. At least, Aerith thought it was only a legend. If the Keyblade truly existed, then Leon wanted it for himself. His Gunblade carved through Heartless hoards like warm butter, but the pearls of darkness eventually condensated back into their original forms. Only the Keyblade could release the hearts trapped within and annihilate the Heartless for good. Aerith had humoured Leon's ranting many times before, nodding her head as he mimed how he would cleave a path through the monsters and reclaim Radiant Garden from the clutches of evil. His passionate words sparked a surge of hope in her heart, but the seeds of doubt had long taken root.

If the road to triumph was paved with the blood of her friends... then Aerith couldn't say if it would ever be worth it.

Visions of Leon throwing himself at the Heartless with Keyblade in hand, ready to give his life for those he loved, drove Aerith after him. She didn't know if the Lifestream would ever hear her voice, yet she prayed with all the strength in her heart that she would not be too late. She should've put her foot down long ago, begged him to give up his dream if it meant carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. She should've done more to make Traverse Town feel like home, pulled him aside when his mind wandered back to the labyrinthian streets and friendly faces of Radiant Garden. Aerith's heart never ceased yearning for the embrace of home, but there was no place in the universe worthy of such a sacrifice. What was the use of returning home if the price was the souls of her family?

Aerith _had_ arrived too late, but not in the way she imagined. The redhead expected to find Leon poised over the unconscious body of a young boy. Instead, she rounded the corner just in time to witness Leon crumple to his knees, struck down by the legendary Keyblade held in the hands of a child barely fourteen years old.

She never let Leon live that one down.

Sora reminded Aerith of everything she hated about herself. Every time he returned to Hollow Bastion to regale the crew of his adventures, Aerith had to physically restrain herself from sweeping the boy up into her arms and never letting him leave the house again. Yuffie clung to his every word, desperate to hear about the worlds that lay beyond their castle walls. Leon seethed with jealousy, broiling with bitterness from his pride that had never quite healed. Cid chewed on a toothpick with increasing intensity as his mind overflowed with ideas for new Gummi Blocks and routes through the Ocean Between. Aerith didn't want to hear any of it. Sora's mastery over the Keyblade only continued to grow with every battalion of Heartless he decimated, every tyrant he toppled, every world he united.  He entertained the others with stories of facing off against an entire army of Huns and how he was almost eaten by a pack of ravenous hyenas, but Aerith didn't find his tales amusing. Sora's innocent smile and naive spirit steadily faded into sepia tones, replaced by hardened resolve and solemnity. Every time he stepped aboard the Gummiship and ventured into worlds unknown, the boy who stood shaking in his boots as he struggled to hold the Keyblade in both hands became more and more of a stranger.

Aerith had already picked up on the fact that Sora stopped over even when there was no trouble in Hollow Bastion. He dropped in at the most unexpected times, accompanied by Donald and Goofy who never voiced any complaints about taking a break from the endless onslaught of Heartless. Cid practically salivated at the opportunity to study the Keyblade in person, and Sora always seemed to have a new dent or chip in the weapon for the mechanic to go to town on. The trio would eat Aerith out of house and home, and she was happy to provide. Her connection to the Lifestream may have been severed, but there would always be a demand for hot meals and cosy beds. Aerith eyed the bags under Sora's eyes and the bruises on his arms with intense suspicion. He was far too young to be so sleep-deprived, and there was no time for rest on the battlefield. The brunette never let slip about his homeworld, seemingly content for that chapter of his past to remain closed. Aerith couldn't describe the joy she felt upon crossing the threshold of Merlin's house after their world was restored, having once believed that she would never again walk the streets of Radiant Garden. She could only imagine the turmoil raging within Sora's heart; unable to return to the sandy beaches of Destiny Islands until Xehanort's plans had been laid to rest once and for all.

Hollow Bastion couldn't hold a candle to the endless blue ocean and towering palm trees, but Aerith would do everything she could to make Sora feel at home. If his endless quest kept him from returning to his family, then she could fill that role until he was ready to leave. Heaven knows any of the Restoration Committee would be overjoyed for Sora to stay with them forever.

When Aerith was awoken in the middle of the night by an almighty **CRASH,** she feared that dream was about to come tumbling down.

Her mind had been toying with the idea of sleep, just hovering on the cusp of rest when it happened. A dull thud and a muffled groan of pain. Aerith’s green eyes snapped open in the darkness, holding her breath as her ears strained for any noise within the silent house. Was it a break-in? Had Organization XIII gotten tired of waiting and brought the fight to their home? Had Sephiroth picked the lock on the front door so he could wake Cloud up with an ominous monologue again?! The only sound was the constant, gentle humming of Cid's computer in the living room and Aerith's own pounding heart. Perhaps she was just exhausted, teetering on the edge of sleep and imagining scenarios that would never come to pass.

She sighed and forced her eyes closed once more. Her mind was playing tricks on her, just the foggy remnants of a dream that eluded her gra-

Sora's door slammed open.

Aerith had never gotten dressed so quickly in her life. Her ginger locks were already tied back in a loose plait, a souvenir of the daily grind that she lacked the energy to undo on an evening. Her mind raced as quickly as her heart as she slipped both feet into their respective boots and tugged her tiered skirt over her hips. Sora had a knack for disappearing in the middle of the night, but the brunette usually slunk through the front door without a whisper to avoid waking his companions. The sound of pounding feet reverberated from beyond Aerith's bedroom door as Sora flew down the stairs towards the living room. The young Keyblade wielder was unshakable even in the face of certain death; something must've severely spooked him. Aerith's blood turned to ice at the thought, but she couldn't turn a blind eye. Something was wrong, and she was not going to merely stand back and watch.

"Sora?!" Aerith cried as she followed the brunette's tracks. "Is everything OK?"

No reply. Aerith’s heart sunk deeper into the pit of her stomach. She descended the final steps only to find the living room wholly unoccupied, with no signs of spiky brown hair or beaming blue eyes. Merlin's teacup waited patiently on his table beside a stack of ageing tomes, its contents kept piping hot by a spark of magic embedded in the porcelain. Cid's computer ran algorithms and processes that Aerith couldn't even begin to decipher, casting the room in an eerie green glow. Just how many times would she need to remind him to turn that off thing before bed?! Her frantic heartbeat relaxed at the conclusion that her house was free of both Heartless and One-Winged Angels. Sephiroth must've learned his lesson after the last time she kicked him to the curb.

It was also unsettling devoid of Sora. The rumbling in Aerith's heart refused to settle until she confirmed his safety with her own eyes.

Thankfully, the Keyblade wielder wasn't all that smart. The front door stood slightly ajar, allowing the frigid night air to billow into the house. Sora's strength was beyond comprehension, but he wasn't the sharpest Keyblade in the Graveyard. Aerith breathed a sigh of relief and followed after him, shivering as the icy moonlight brushed across her bare arms. Just how was Sora able to work in conditions like this? She briefly contemplated staying behind, granting Sora the privacy to work through his problems and return of his own accord. She would be ready and waiting with a mug of hot cocoa and an open mind. Boys' emotions were so fragile at his age, and Aerith didn't want to cause more harm by prying.

The clattering of metal against stone coming from one street over was enough to make up her mind. Whatever had sent Sora scrambling for his life in the dead of the night was not something Aerith could overlook. Braving the chill that seeped into her bones, she resolutely made her way towards the source of the commotion.

Aerith had half expected to find Sora knee-deep in Heartless, brandishing his Keyblade against the tide of darkness. Perhaps she would've even felt better knowing that his suffering could be attributed to something he could fight against. She shook that thought out of her head before it took take root. Aerith followed the curvature of the street as it led her up towards the market square. The engine of Hollow Bastion during the day was a mere ghost town at night, dense shadows betraying the haphazard construction of the stalls. It was a bleak reminder that Aerith's homeworld had a long way to go before it could reclaim the name of 'Radiant Garden'. The pool of molten metal in the redhead's stomach eased somewhat as she reached the apex of the stone steps. Sora's unruly brown hair finally came into view as he knelt before the community signboard, completely oblivious to Aerith's presence. His face bore a blank expression, head leaning back like his neck was struggling to support its weight. Aerith was relieved to find him in one piece, but his sapphire eyes were dull and lifeless as if his soul had left his body. Sora's gaze was glued to the calendar, proudly displaying the photograph of the entire Restoration Committee that Aerith had pestered Leon to include in the rotation, yet his eyes were unfocused as if he was staring straight through the wooden signboard. Was he sleepwalking?

Aerith cautiously approached the motionless boy and placed one hand on his shoulder. His frame gently rose and fell with each breath, but Sora was so serene that Aerith half expected her hand to phase through his body like a mirage. She had heard many tales from an increasingly exasperated Merlin, ranting about how Sora's heart seemed to wander off on a dime. The wizard suspected that the brunette's brief stint as a Heartless had loosened the tether between his body and soul. Aerith couldn't bear the thought of losing him to the darkness again. A single tearstain ran down Sora's cheek, a trail of diamonds twinkling under the moonlight. Aerith swallowed the lump in her throat and briskly shook the brunette’s shoulder.

"Sora?" she repeated, her voice cracking with thinly veiled dread. "Are you still with us?"

At first, Sora didn't react to her touch. He remained as listless as the stone battlements that circled the market square. An eternity passed before Aerith finally felt his muscles move below her palm, his head turning to face the one who released him from his trance. The brunette's face remained expressionless like a porcelain doll, not even blinking as he stared into Aerith's soul. The inner workings of her heart were laid bare as Sora delved into her spirit with his piercing blue eyes, desperately searching for something that wasn't there.

This person may look like Sora, may be wearing his clothes and standing in his shoes, but the soul behind his eyes was foreign to her. A boy with a flash of blonde hair and electric blue eyes, whose smile was innocent and pure. For the briefest of moments, Aerith looked into Sora's eyes and saw a stranger staring back.

_"...Aqua?"_

Sora's voice croaked from his throat as if he was holding back a sob, a husk of his booming, confident tone. Aerith had no time to respond before the brunette's eyes refocused, blinking hard as his consciousness returned. Sora scrubbed his eye sockets with the heels of his palms, scouring away any remnants of the trance that possessed his body. He leapt to his feet, frantically turning his head back and forth as if searching for the faces of two nameless Keyblade wielders. Aerith was relieved to see the last of the blank, unfeeling expression that once soured Sora's face, but she wasn't sure that blind panic was much better. She grabbed the brunette by his shoulders and stopped his breakdown before he made himself pass out.

"Sora, calm down," Aerith commanded, her voice firm but kind. "You're in Hollow Bastion. You're safe."

Sora was still visibly shaken, but Aerith's earnest words were enough to bring him down to earth. He took several jittery breaths, sliding his eyes closed and forcing his racing heart to relax. Aerith found herself doing the same. The two shared a moment of fleeting tranquillity until Sora suddenly flinched and wiped the tear stain off his cheek. His face flushed red at the realisation that he had cried in front of someone he respected. Aerith couldn't help but smile - even in his weakest hour, Sora was still trying to keep a brave face. Sometimes she forgot just how young he was.

"H-How did I get here?" Sora probed, his eyebrows furrowed in deep confusion. "Last I remember, we all ate dinner together, Leon and Cloud had an argument about whether guns or swords are better, then I went to bed…"

He trailed off into silence, desperately looking to Aerith for answers. Her heart yearned to reveal the truth that danced on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't bring herself to crush Sora's spirit. Aerith still remembered that fourteen-year-old boy begging to know what had happened to his world and his friends and his mother, blissfully unaware that he would never see the latter again. All questions that she asked herself every day, that Sora would never hear the answers to. The many years of conflict had moulded Sora into a strapping young man, but that lost child was still alive inside his soul. He was robbed of his childhood by a fate decided long before he was born, and Aerith refused to stifle the last shreds of the brunette’s innocence. No matter how dim the light, how weak the flame, she couldn't bear the thought of snuffing it out.

"You were sleepwalking, dear," Aerith stated, forcing a gentle smile onto her features. "Come on, let's go back inside. It's cold – I'll make you some tea."

She could tell by the way Sora's lips pursed and his eyebrows furrowed that he didn't fully buy her story, but he was too exhausted to argue.

Aerith took his hand in hers and lead him home, like a lost lamb returning to the safety of the flock. She didn't doubt that the Keyblade wielder would still be crumpled in front of that signboard until the sun rose if she hadn't been awake to hear him fleeing. Sora's fingers were like icicles, but the weight of his hand in hers dispelled the fog that clouded her senses. As the two walked back to Merlin's House in comfortable silence, Aerith's mind lingered on something that had taken root in the depths of her psyche. A throwaway remark that Cid had let slip; an expression that meant nothing in the moment, yet had echoed in her brain since the moment it was conceived.

_"The Keyblade, eh? Lucky kid."_

There was nothing lucky about the Keyblade. Nothing Aerith envied about the role that was forced into Sora's hands before he even knew what it meant. The Keyblade was a blessing for those it liberated, and a curse for those chosen to wield it.

Well, there was no use lingering on the matter. Sora's fate was inexplicably tied to the Keyblade, and there was no changing that. Even if there was some way of snipping the threads of fate, Aerith doubted that Sora would have it any other way. He would've taken on the Heartless army with just his fists if the Keyblade had never appeared to him. Sora never cursed the life he was chosen to lead; Aerith resolved to do the same. Rather than put up a futile fight against the unyielding hands of destiny, she would turn her attention towards making the battle a little easier. Aerith would never support him on the battlefield without the power of Materia, but she could offer something that no one else could. After all, the frightened boy that lived on within Sora's heart would always need a warm bed and a loving embrace. The passage of time could take its toll on the brunette's body, but his mind was unbreakable. Some things would never truly change.

Perhaps, in her own way, Aerith could be the most useful of all.

 


	2. Roxas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for all the feedback, it really pushed me to finish this chapter on time! Thank God I got to put the KH wiki down for this one… I just had to watch and transcribe all the cutscenes instead whoops!

Roxas woke up not knowing where he was. That was pretty normal on a school day.

He stared up at the ceiling for a lot longer than he meant to, his icy blue eyes blurry with sleep and limbs heavy like weights. He practically had to hold his eyelids open; if he rested for too long he would undoubtedly drift back into the loving arms of sleep and be lost to the world one more. Roxas was never able to allow himself to enjoy his weekends when the thought of classes constantly loomed overhead like a hawk, and he would rather just not think about it. Still, his teachers wouldn’t accept ignorance as an excuse to no show, not after the last time he tried that. He’d have to pull himself together at some point.

What time was it anyway? Roxas rolled his head to the side, praying that it was somehow 3 AM and he could just go back to sleep, but the clock on the wall was not that merciful. It was almost midday, and that meant he was late for school _again._ His teacher would kill him, but only if Olette didn’t do it first. She was the one who had written up their report on the so-called ‘Seven Mysteries of Twilight Town’, but only on the understanding that the boys wouldn’t make her present it on her own. Even if the mysteries had turned out to be nothing more that a series of coincidental happenings it had still made for a passable report. That was their fault for leaving it to the literal last minute – if it hadn’t been for Olette they would have been desperately trying to throw something together as they walked to class.

Roxas briefly considered skipping school entirely – he was so late at this point there was barely any reason for him to show his face – but his morals weren’t _that_ grey. Grumbling to himself, he swung his legs over the bed and cracked his neck before standing up. A loud yawn erupted unannounced from his mouth. Considering the blonde had already overslept, he would have figured he’d feel more rested. Whatever. He’d been to class in a much worse condition than this before.

That was weird, he couldn’t seem to remember the name of his school…

Or what classes he was studying…

Roxas had to resist the urge to physically slap himself in the face as the clouds in his sleep-addled brain finally cleared and the truth shone through. He had been here more times than he could count, roused from sleep by vivid dreams of the boy in red living out a life fraught with danger and heartache. There _was_ no school, no assignment, it was all manufactured for him to keep him stuck in a little gilded bird cage while the Organization attempted to remove his head from his shoulders. He had prayed that when he fused with Sora completely the fake memories would finally leave him, but they still taunted him night after night like a lie that refused to die.

**_“It may have started with a lie, but I’m really glad I met you, Sora.”_ **

**_Sora tore his eyes away from the open petals of the pod and turned back to the girl, her statement coming out of the blue and catching him off guard. Naminé refused to make eye contact, embarrassed by her bold admission and twirling her blonde locks in one hand. He knew now that all the memories of the two of them fighting against the Heartless, sitting on the beach together, all of that was fake. Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to hate the girl – the Organization had leeched her powers for all she was worth with no thought for the girl they were tearing apart inside. He knew what that felt like. He swallowed the lump in his throat._ **

**_“Yeah, he agreed. “Me too.”_ **

**_The brunette’s statement was enough to draw Naminé out of her lament, blue eyes wide in a near perfect reflection of his own gaze. Sora wondered if she had ever met anyone that viewed her as more than a tool to be used and then thrown aside. He wasn’t sure where he stood with her after what she had done to him, but there was so much of himself that he saw reflected in her that it almost hurt._ **

**_“When I found you, even when I remembered your name… I was so, so happy,” Sora continued. This could be his last chance to voice his emotions and he was going to make every word count. “The way I felt was no lie.”_ **

**_Naminé felt Sora’s infectious grin spread across her own face. There was no guarantee that she would be able to completely revert all the damage she had done to his memories, or that Sora would even wake at all, but even in the face of his own demise he was smiling until the very end. If she had a heart, she was sure it would be grieving, but instead the void in her chest where her heart should be threatened to swallow her whole. She forced herself to return his smile._ **

**_“Goodbye.”_ **

**_“No, not goodbye!” Sora insisted loudly, making Naminé jump in her own skin. “I’ll find you again after I wake up and we’ll be friend for real!”_ **

**_“Promise me, Naminé.”_ **

Promise me, Naminé.

Roxas wasn’t sure when he had blacked out, but he returned to consciousness dry heaving into a waste bin. His head felt like it was encased in a vice, squeezing until his eyes would pop out of their sockets, and his arms burned with pins and needles. There was nothing in his stomach to bring up but his stomach was refusing to settle. He tried to fit gasps of air in between each lurch of his insides until they finally ceased. He leaned back on his heels and let out a long breath, the pounding in his head sending his vision spinning even after he came back to his senses.

It had been a _long_ time since that had happened. The Nobody was privy to Sora’s memories filed away from the time after they had merged, but everything before his time imprisoned within that cursed pod was lost to him. Funny, he only ever remembered Sora’s memories leaking through to him while he was asleep; something about a slumbering heart left it open to outside influence, and he was never so badly affected by it that he blacked out. Perhaps it was because he was awake when it happened-

Wait, he was _awake._

Any air left in his lungs was wrenched out at the unwelcome thought as if his life processes had all ceased. Roxas had chosen to give up his existence, or as much of an existence as a Nobody would ever have, so that Sora could be whole. He knew that Axel would never stop hunting him down if he didn’t, waiting around every corner to either kidnap him or kill him if he didn’t comply. His former best friend had made it _very_ clear that he would stop at nothing to turn the Keyblade wielder back into a Heartless in the hopes of jettisoning Roxas back into the world as Sora’s Nobody, and he was not interested on Roxas’ opinions on the matter. The blonde had defeated Axel before but he didn’t believe that would be the last he saw of him.

Well, Roxas was very much awake now. Had Axel finally succeeded?

What had happened to Sora?!

Fighting through the pain that still dug its talons into his chest, he jumped to his feet and rushed to the bathroom. His mind didn’t recognise this place but his heart _did,_ and his feet carried him to his destination. Grabbing onto the sides of the sink he fearfully checked his reflection in the mirror, praying that his soulless blue eyes and dirty blonde hair would be looking back at him. Roxas wasn’t unfamiliar with the sensation of looking into a mirror and seeing a different person staring back; the face that had appeared to him always looked identical to his own but softer, gentler, no bags under his eyes and a vitality to his skin that contrasted his own battle-weary gaze.

Roxas had never expected to see Sora looking straight back at him.

No doubt about it: those uncontrollable cocoa hair spikes and eyes like the ocean floor couldn’t belong to anyone else. He scrunched his eyes shut, waited for a few seconds with baited breath, then reopened them. Such a trick was usually enough to banish the imposter who shared his features, but the face of his Other continued to taunt him from the other side of the mirror. His eyes were red and weary as if he was chronically sleep deprived, but Roxas had seen that face in his dreams enough to erase any doubt. The thought that his own stern expression really didn’t suit Sora’s features crossed his mind until he realised how absurd that was.

Perhaps he was still dreaming. Roxas had stood in Sora’s oversized shoes many a time as he had leeched the brunette’s memories from him, but he had only ever acted out his memories as Sora himself remembered them. The Keyblade wielder was not always the most reliable narrator. But now if Roxas reached his hand up and touched his face, his reflection would do the same, skin browned from sunlight that Roxas avoided like he would burst into flames. Such was the life of Nobody, doomed to slink around in the shadow of his Other. Scowling to himself, he released his white-knuckled grip on the sink and pinched his forearm _hard_.

Ouch. Definitely not dreaming.

At least he now had a place to start from. His analytical mind began ticking away, distancing himself from any emotive response and focusing solely on the facts at hand. Roxas clearly wasn’t dreaming himself: out of all the times he’d played back Sora’s memories like a tape recorder he was never aware of the clash in identities, so he could safely rule that out. He wasn’t chained inside of a Replica body – the pounding of his heart and the blood rushing through his head was proof enough of that. He _could_ be inside another virtual world – it certainly wouldn’t be the first time – but why would his captors choose to make him look like Sora instead of just like himself? He could feel his own sense of panic lessening as he ran over each possibility and discarded them.

Roxas could see two options remaining: either something had happened to Sora’s heart and he’d been given control of their joint body in the meantime. The second and significantly _worse_ option, Axel’s plan had blossomed into completion and Sora was now a Heartless, leaving Roxas to be reincarnated as his Nobody once more.

That then left the question that Roxas didn’t know if he could answer: was he actually Roxas right now, or was he _Sora._

**_Sora barely had a moment to catch his breath as he closed in on the black-hooded figure they had been pursuing. The Underworld wasn’t kind to visitors from the land of the living, the curse continually sapping his strength as the lost souls tried to draw the last vestiges of life from any source they could. He could tell it was affecting Donald and Goofy as well, but no complaints had been voiced. In a macabre way the dire situation had pulled them together – without the Olympus Stone in their possession they would be facing a one-way trip to the depths of the Underworld if even a single one of their resolves faltered._ **

**_How it wasn’t affecting the cloaked Nobody was beyond him, but Sora didn’t care. Olympus Stone or not, he would still meet his end at the tip of his Keyblade. He could feel his left hand thrum as the Kingdom Key called out to any of the other Keyblades that were waiting in the wings, but the curse of the Underworld just wouldn’t allow the message to reach any of them. Dual-wielding was out of the question. The commotion of the three blazing up the stairs had caught the attention of the Nobody, who slipped back his hood to reveal a pale face framed by a shocking spiked mullet._ **

**_“Wait a sec…” the cloaked figure mused. “Roxas?”_ **

**_Sora felt an unfathomable aching in his chest but brushed it aside. The curse of the Underworld was probably just getting to him._ **

**_“Oh, it’s no use!” the Nobody lamented, throwing his hands in the air in frustration._ **

**_“Huh? What are you talking about?” Sora demanded, but the Nobody completely ignored him, instead plucking a note from the inside of his cloak at refreshing himself of its contents._ **

**_“Let’s see here… ‘If the subject fails to respond, use aggressive to liberate his true disposition.’ Right… did they ever pick the wrong guy for this one…”_ **

**_Sora couldn’t help but laugh; Demyx very rarely said anything that came close to the truth but no one would deny that he wasn’t a fighter. Xemnas had always stood firm against the others when they questioned why he was even permitted to join: Demyx was the only member of the Organization with the ability to outnumber an army, even if he fought alone. Who else could produce a seemingly limitless supply of water clones that could overwhelm their foes in seconds? If he would only find a desire to fight within himself he would easily be one of the strongest members. But all Demyx wanted to do was play his sitar, even trying to cajole Sora into forming a band with him so they could leave the Organization behind and-_ **

**_No, that wasn’t how that happened._ **

Roxas groaned and clutched his throbbing head, the pain returning with a vengeance as his mind was overstimulated with mismatched memories. Sora didn’t even know Demyx’s name at that point, and the blonde wouldn’t be surprised to find that he hadn’t learned Sora’s either. It was fair to say that neither of the two were the brains of their respective groups. Somehow his own memories were beginning to get mixed up with Sora’s, and that brought his concerns for his Other back into the spotlight.

Regardless of the situation he was in now, Roxas needed more information before he could plan his next move.

Taking a moment to splash Sora’s face with water, Roxas was amused to see that his Other slept fully clothed. Probably so that he could jump into action at any notice without having to fight Heartless in his pyjamas. The Nobody was not mentally prepared to see his Other naked any time soon. The refreshing chill of the perpetual twilight air washed over him, the air clean and pure to his lungs. If nothing else, at least he was in a world he recognised – Roxas had technically never stepped foot in Twilight Town proper but it still felt like home. Much more so than the unfeeling white skyscrapers of The World That Never Was.

Why was it even called that when it very clearly current is?!

His feet almost carried him through the chain fence leading to the Usual Spot before he noticed where he was heading, his body retracing the steps his mind had taken a million times before. Was he planning on sitting down with Hayner, Pence and Olette, talking about when the word ‘photo’ was stolen or when they tried to go to the beach but DiZ didn’t want to render it? Would he look at their confused and worried faces as he talked about event that never happened and places that didn’t exist? Would they look into his eyes and ask Sora what was wrong, or would they see the Nobody that was locked inside?

He turned away sharply. They weren’t _his_ friends anymore, or more specifically they had never been.

Roxas was still getting used to the idea of having feelings. Xemnas had always been unwavering on his position in the world – a Nobody didn’t have a heart, didn’t even technically exist. They were unholy creatures that straddled the line between life and death, unwanted by both light and darkness and doomed to wander without purpose for all eternity. That was, unless they could retrieve their hearts. Their souls would be restored and they could enter back into the worlds that had cast them aside. His eyes would fill with a dangerous yellow glow as he described the plan to his underlings, each one of them desperate for something to cling to that would give meaning to their existence. Roxas could never bring himself to meet his boss’s gaze when he slipped into one of his rants.

In spite of this, Roxas could pick out more than one time where he had experienced what could be referred to as an ‘emotion’. He felt lonely when Axel left him to join the others in Castle Oblivion, embarrassed whenever Larxene accused him of hitting on her, rage as Saix stood before him and commanded him to obey without question. But looking back on those moments, the emotions he felt were faded and blunt, echoes of the feelings that lingered inside of Sora’s fractured heart. Xemnas would tell him that he was simply remembered what emotions were like, rather than actually producing them himself, and it was the only thing that the white-haired Nobody ever told him that he whole-heartedly believed.

‘Whole-Heartedly’. What an ironic statement.

Roxas only understood what having emotions really meant when he joined with Sora, comatose in that accursed pod for over a year. Suddenly he had a heart, and sure it might not have been his _own,_ but Sora seemed to have no problem with sharing. Roxas hadn’t noticed just how much his time with the Organization had stuck with him; he had never known any different so he accepted the lot that was dealt to him with no complaints, but when he stood in the shadow of his Other and closed his eyes for the last time all he could feel was **anger.**

He was angry at Xemnas for reducing his entire existence down to the Keyblade in his hand. He was angry at Axel for trying to murder him in cold blood just because he refused to become the mindless puppet that he was before. He was angry at DiZ for giving him friends that weren’t real and then ripping them from him. But most of all he was angry at Sora.

If Roxas could have chosen anyone to hate it would have been Xemnas, but nothing came close to the unbridled hatred he felt towards Sora at first. Sora got to meet the _real_ Hayner, Pence and Olette and they liked _him_ , not Roxas. Sora got to travel the worlds, eat amazing food and see spectacular sunsets, and Roxas didn’t. Roxas had to sit and be quiet while Sora took his Keyblade from him and tore through waves of darkness without ever knowing that he was robbing his Nobody of the one thing that made him special.

Of course, Roxas no longer felt that way, but he had wondered many times if the loathing he experienced towards the brunette was truly his own, or if it was just yet another reflection of how Sora felt towards himself.

Roxas hadn’t realised that his legs had carried him to the Station, so wrapped up in his introspection that he had wandered on autopilot. Craning his head back and brushing Sora’s unruly bangs out of his vision, the regal clock tower loomed above him. He reminded himself that this was not a place he had visited before – the clock tower he knew like the back of his hand was just an illusion, a data recreation to distract his mind from the manhunt taking place in the real world. Roxas knew that those memories were fake, but he couldn’t bring himself to call them meaningless. He knew Sora would agree.

**_Sora planted both feet at the base of the skyscraper. The artificial blue neon lights that wrapped around every building like veins seemed to pulse with life, burning afterimages into his eyes. The scent of petrichor filled his nostrils even though the skies above were clear, no clouds to obscure the sickly glow of Kingdom Hearts above his head as darkness spilled out of its massacred core. His grip on the Kingdom Key was so tight that his fingers were going numb, but his Keyblade was the only lifeline he had right now._ **

**_The brunette pushed himself off the ground and up the skyscraper behind him toward the waiting figure of Xemnas. Even in the low light, Sora could feel his dark smirk burning through him as he approached. Gravity held no sway over him as each step he took up the side of the building vibrated through him, pushing him harder and harder towards his foe. The effervescent blow glow was pierced with angry red, Xemnas readying both of his Ethereal Blades and gracefully swan-diving from the roof. It seemed he was not content with simply waiting for Sora to come to him._ **

**_Roxas brutally swept both his Keyblades from side to side, the Neoshadows that were foolish enough to bear his wrath severed at the waist like paper and scattered to the wind. The rain stung his eyes as he continued upwards, but he didn’t dare blink. In a moment of pure instinct, he put all his strength behind his left arm and tossed Oblivion upwards, the Keyblade shooting ahead of him at an astonishing speed and spinning like a blade. Any Heartless in its path stood no chance against the fury of the weapon as it carved a path through. Flecks of inky darkness mixed with the rain until Roxas could barely tell the difference._ **

**_Riku had a similar thought in mind, for once. Plummeting off the building he intercepted Oblivion in its warpath, ignoring the scalding heat as the foreign Keyblade attempted to reject his call and forced the weapon into his servitude. Roxas winced as his feet met the giant screen, stuck playing only static and sending bolts of electricity up his leg with each step. His knees wanted to freeze up with the shocks but he pushed his body through it. He was so close to his adversary he could see the black blindfold flowing in the wind and the serene smile on Riku’s face as the two drew closer._ **

**_Roxas wondered if Riku had blinded himself because he was afraid of the face he would see under Roxas’ hood._ **

He supposed neither of the two had good experiences with skyscrapers. Shaking his hear to clear the unwelcome memories from behind his eyes, Roxas ducked into the Station. DiZ was unnecessarily obsessed with details, so it would only be right for him to have accurately replicated the path up to the buildings summit. Sure enough, that familiar maintenance door stood guard in a futile attempt to protect what lay beyond it. Cautiously checking for incoming trains, he hopped down from the platform and dodged inside the door before a member of staff could catch a glimpse of that head of unruly brown hair disappearing across the threshold.

They really needed to fix that door.

Roxas was grateful that Sora was just as fit as he was – the stairs leading up to the clock tower seemed to stretch into infinity and there was more than one occasion that he had to physically drag his friends up the last few flights. At the time he didn’t give his own unnatural endurance much thought, but it was just another reminder of how out-of-place the blonde was in the world. The blast of wind that almost swept him off his feet as the Nobody breached the door to the outside world was refreshing, banishing the musty smell of the disused maintenance shaft and blowing dust into the air around him.

It never failed to surprise Roxas at how climbing the clock tower felt like entering a different climate. The rustic buildings of Twilight Town acted like windbreaks, sheltering the residents below from the full wrath of the wind, but up here he was completely exposed to the elements. It was like he was getting a true glimpse of the city’s personality. He stepped out carefully and sat down on the overhang, legs resting off the edge and dangling into the void ready to swallow him up below. Roxas had already experienced the sensation of plummeting off the tower, and for all it was just another of his fabricated memories he was not yearning to replicate that feeling for real. The air up here was so much colder, each breath burning his lungs with the uncharacteristic chill, but it was almost grounding. It reminded Roxas that he was not dreaming.

Now that he could confidently state he would not be interrupted, the blonde turned his mind back to the awful reality he was facing. He needed to address the situation at some point if he hoped to discover what had taken place for him to be standing in Sora’s shoes. Even considering the two were _technically_ the same person, the brunette’s body still felt so alien to him. It was less like he was parading around in someone else’s clothes, and more like he was using someone else’s skin. His hand wrapped itself around his wrist, the rushing of blood through his vein was an entirely new experience. The sensation of just being _alive_ was so overstimulating, how Sora was able to function was beyond him.

OK, back to the task at hand. First option was that Sora’s heart had gone AWOL.

That wasn’t a wholly unreasonable concept. Some days it felt like everyone had their thumbs in Sora’s heart, whether it was DiZ using it to hide away his research from his wayward apprentices, Xehanort trying to force it into submission as another one of his mindless copies, or Roxas himself leeching off the brunette’s lifeforce like a conjoined twin. He wasn’t completely convinced by this solution – he could still feel Sora’s heart burning inside of him like a furnace, the source of the pulse in his wrists and the beating drum in his head. The Nobody wasn’t sure if Sora being physically _alive_ even had anything to do with his heart. He had never owned one of his own, after all.

He didn’t even know what the difference between the organ in his chest and the heart that was the source of Sora’s lifeforce was. It was something he had accepted he would never understand.

That left the second possibility. The more Roxas regained his memories stemming from his… _turbulent_ relationship with Axel, the less he understood about him. The redhead was playing so many different sides that Roxas wasn’t sure if Axel himself knew what he was fighting for, ricocheting between morals with a speed that would have made Riku jealous. Half the time he was trying to taint his chakrams with his former best friend’s blood, and the other half he was eating sea salt ice cream and talking about crying. He was less of a wild card, and more of a card taken from a completely different deck.

Axel was at least upfront about what he wanted: if Sora become a Heartless again then he would also create a Nobody, and this time there was no Kairi to pluck the brunette out of the depths of darkness. His heart would be lost to Kingdom Hearts and Roxas would reform. Whether the assassin would then try to take him back to his old base in the World That Never Was, or if he planned for the two of them to do a runner while they could, Roxas had no idea. The plan was based in reality – something quite unusual for Axel – but there was a major flaw.

Axel didn’t know that Roxas was still very much alive inside of Sora. If Sora’s heart was taken from him, would Roxas go with him?

The blonde had attempted to probe Xemnas about the nature of hearts more than once, trying to extrapolate any information he could out of his enigmatic boss. What was so special about a heart that they needed one to be complete? Why couldn’t Vexen just make Replica hearts if he could make Replica bodies? Why reform Kingdom Hearts when they could just _take_ a heart out of the Heartless themselves? Even Xemnas’ heart had to be locked up in a Heartless somewhere. The silver-haired Nobody just gave him a predatory smile and told Roxas he would need to decide what having a heart meant on his own. He really didn’t answer any of his questions.

Roxas wasn’t sure that Xemnas knew anything about having a heart in the first place.

**_“The ingredients for a heart: pulse!”_ **

**_Jack gestured grandiosely to a croaking frog, secured to a cork board with a pin in each leg and belly gyrating with every rasping noise it made. Sora winced at the sight of the suffering animal, but kept his mouth shut. He really wanted to see those Heartless dance…_ **

**_“Terror,” slurred Dr Finkelstein, fishing out one of his beloved tarantulas and unceremoniously dropping it onto his work bench. The maniacal scientist wasn’t invested in the Heartless for the same reason as the Pumpkin King; rather his interest was roused as soon as the idea of experimenting with hearts presented itself to him. He had created a heart for Sally many years ago, but the girl was far too soft in the head to be of any use. Perhaps this attempt would create something of value._ **

**_“Fear,” the unearthly atmosphere was punctuated with the sound of Dr Finkelstein,scraping his hand down a pane of dirty glass. The gut-wrenching screech it produced made Sora’s teeth hurt, and Goofy covered his ears with his hands in a futile attempt to block out the sound._ **

**_“Hope and despair,” Jack continued, oblivious to the negative responses he was getting from the trio. Two snakes were intertwined at the ends, each hungrily devouring the other in a living ouroboros. “Mix them all together and we have a heart!”_ **

**_Sora wouldn’t pretend like he knew anything about hearts, but he wasn’t completely convinced. If he lingered on the heart in his own chest, the recipe was missing love. Joy. Friendship. All the things that made life worth living. Then again, perhaps what the mad scientist was describing counted as a heart in this world, and the brunette wasn’t going to break the World Order just for the sake of correcting the spell. He gave Donald and Goofy a look, which they both returned with shrugs of confusion, however they seemed just as willing as he was to allow the experiment to proceed. Donald could say he wasn’t interested in watching the Heartless parade around, but Sora had no reason to believe him._ **

**_Jack haphazardly shoved the miscellaneous ingredients into the pulsating heart container that Sora had opened with his Keyblade, and ** _Dr Finkelstein,_** powered on his machine. It groaned in an almost organic manner as if stirred from sleep, a sickly green goo vacuumed up from what used to be the insides of the heart. With a deafening roar the machine seemed to explode, sparks flying through the air like fireworks as the doctor cheered in the background. Electricity punctured the twitching body of the restrained Heartless and it seemed to rouse for a moment before collapsing down as if it had never moved._ **

**_“It failed!”  Dr Finkelstein, wailed as Sora picked himself up off the floor. “Maybe it’s missing some ingredients… let’s try adding memory.”_ **

Roxas let out a barking laugh. If ‘memory’ was necessary to create a heart, then Sora would have lost his fifty times over already.

He was ashamed to admit how long it had taken for him to let go of the hate he felt towards his Other. The only image he had of the brunette was that of a thief, having stolen his identity and memories in the dead of night and left Roxas with nothing except his name, but that wasn’t true. It took a while for him to see it, but both Keyblade wielders had been ripped from their homes and forced to accept destinies that they had no say in. Both were used as tools by the Organization then tossed aside when they had served their joint purpose. Both had looked into the eyes of someone they called ‘friend’ and seen the lack of recognition in return.

Roxas was content being part of Sora. If having a heart involved so much pain, then Roxas was happy to leave it to someone else.

* * *

Hayner had given up trying to get through to Sora a long time ago.

With the exception of Seifer, who could take long walk off Sunset Hill for all he cared, Hayner prided himself on being the friendliest person in town. Pence and Olette could scoff at him for saying that all they wanted! Between the Struggles that would draw in people from all walks of life, his (semi) famous Grandstand acts, and the jobs he would take on for those in need, the blonde was determined to call every citizen of Twilight Town his friend. He wanted everyone to know who he was – the feeling of skating around Tram Common and hearing someone call his name was exhilarating. He understood why Setzer put so much time into maintaining his image.

Sure, people usually just shouted his name because he had done something wrong, but it counted!

Besides, Twilight Town was just so ungodly _boring._ Visitors from outside of town described the settlement as idyllic, wide eyed at the grand clock tower and the intricately decorated trams and the smell that constantly wafted from the doors of Le Grand Bistrot. It was an oasis of peace in a stressful world, and Hayner couldn’t stand it. His whole life revolved between dragging himself to classes and hanging out at the Usual Spot. Every day merged into the next until it felt like he was wasting away.

It was one of the only things that the trio couldn’t agree on. Pence was so exceptionally intelligent that Hayner didn’t know how he put up with the humdrum without tearing his hair out, but he was so chronically _lazy_ that the slow hazy days suited him well. Olette could find enjoyment in any task, every homework assignment turning into a game that she could throw herself into a lose track of time in. Hayner was not bored enough to consider doing homework. He wanted to feel his heart race as he pulled off a new skateboard trick, or kicked Seifer’s butt for the first time in weeks.

The first time he met Sora he was filled with envy. He had never changed his mind so quickly.

The three had a strict policy – the door to the Usual Spot was open to anyone who wanted to enter. Sure, it was their personal spot, but in a town where everyone knew each other on a first-name basis there was nothing to fear. Hayner was secretly waiting for a super hero or something to walk through the door and give them all super powers, not that he would say that out loud. He _sorta_ got what he wanted when Sora had stumbled through, looking like a lost sheep and chasing ghosts with names he could barely remember. There was certainly no one else like the brunette in town, not to mention the talking duck and dog that followed him everywhere, and that excited Hayner. Finally, something interesting!

But wherever Sora went he seemed to bring a trail of destruction with him. Within days of his initial appearance and prompt disappearance the town had begun to echo with reports of monsters lurking in the sewers. Fantastic! After the resounding disappointment of the ‘Seven Frauds of Twilight Town’ maybe they could make a half decent report this time, and Hayner might even get to punch something in the face! He could see that Pence’s analytical mind was dying to solve the mystery and Olette was just glad that they’d be working on the report for once.

Less than an hour later the three had run screaming from the sewers when they realised that the white slithery creatures couldn’t be hurt. The blonde had been training for what felt like most of his life for this exact moment – a chance to prove his might and gain the esteem of his peers by slaying a monster and saving the town. Watching his Struggle Bat phase through the creatures as if they were holograms filled him with a terror he prayed he would never feel again.

Sora had a knack for turning up wherever he was needed the most. Hayner had initially thought the Keyblade was just a stupid-looking cosplay weapon, but it sliced through the white creatures and cleaved them apart like they were made of putty. Sora fought as if he was choreographed, a fluidity to his movement had allowed him to slip past limbs that almost grazed his skin with the same amount of effort that he put into his rants about the **POWER OF FRIENDSHIP** **™.** Hayner was just relieved that the Keyblade wielder had chosen to be on their side; he had no difficulty believing that if Sora turned to the darkness there would be no person alive that could take him down.

At first Hayner would’ve cut off his own leg for a chance to take up arms next to Sora. The brunette was living the life he always wanted – travelling to the horizon and beyond, fighting bad guys and saving people left and right. He was like his favourite super hero had stepped out of a comic book with a giant key – he still didn’t understand why it had to be a key. No one would ever describe Hayner as being particularly attentive, but Sora’s indomitable strength was only present while he was in motion. When not engaged in the thrall of combat even Hayner could see the bags under the brunette’s eyes and the exhaustion in his posture. He wondered when Sora was last able to take a moment to just rest.

Well, if Hayner couldn’t contribute to the fighting then he could at least offer a safe bed to rest in. It was the least he could do, and his parents were away for the summer so he had the space to share. Sora tried to refuse, citing the growing darkness that he needed to combat, but Olette looked like she would have lynched him if he refused, so the brunette accepted if only for a nap. There was no saying what state the rest of the town was in and the crew couldn’t do much without the Key and its handler, so they retreated back to the Usual Spot to regain their bearings. Hayner’s house was literally next door anyway.

The insufferable boredom was beginning to set in and rot his brains again. The blonde ran his hand through his unruly curly hair and stood abruptly, startling his friends. He barked out that he was going to check on Sora, grabbed two sea salt ice cream bars from the minifridge, and sped off before they could talk him out of it. He was itching to get back into the action and he could tell that Sora felt the same way.

He pushed past the metal gates just in time to see Sora disappear towards Station Plaza.

Hayner was shocked to find himself hesitating. He had put so much work into solidifying his place in the towns ecosystem yet there was a part of his mind telling him not to follow. He wouldn’t deny that he didn’t like Sora much when they first crossed paths, something that the blonde wasn’t proud to admit, because the guy was such a closed-off puzzle that dodged every question and retreated within himself at the drop of a hat. Hayner was proud of his reputation as friend to all, but he wasn’t convinced that he could be friends with someone who didn’t want to reciprocate.

He shook those traitorous thoughts out of his head and chased after the retreating Keyblade wielder, ice cream in hand. Since when was he willing to give up so easily! He needed to stop overthinking and get out of his head. Sprinting up the hill towards the station he caught a glimpse of his target entering the reflective glass doors of the station. This was getting weirder and weirder; was Sora trying to take the train somewhere? He had better not be trying to duck out and run away without at least saying goodbye! Huffing in frustration Hayner followed, disappointed that he was being outrun but the brunette.

Interestingly, there was no sight of the Keyblade wielder on either platform. Instead, the maintenance door leading to the clock tower was mysteriously ajar.

Hayner couldn’t help but feel suspicious rising in his stomach. The clock tower was their favourite hang out spot, rising above the humdrum of the city like a monument of peace. Sora had never been up there. Sora shouldn’t even know how to access it, yet here he was. Hayner already suspected that the Keyblade wielder was keeping things from them, but he wasn’t sure whether he should feel elated that his suspicions seemed to be confirmed. Eyes narrowed and tension in his shoulders, he picked his way forward and followed.

Why did there have to be so many stairs?!

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see at the top of those stairs. Sticking his head out of the door, he witnessed Sora sitting right on the edge, legs dangling off the overhang as if mocking the idea of death below him. His posture displayed a degree of relaxation that Hayner had never witnessed on the constantly on-edge battle-weary guy, a serene smile on his face as he gazed absently into the distance. He briefly considered leaving the brunette to his stolen moment of introspection, but the ice cream in his hand was beginning to soften and melt. If he wanted to make one last effort to befriend Sora, this was the shot.

Hayner joined the wistful brunette on the edge, clumsily flopping into position beside him like he had done a million times before. The two were so high above the city that the only noise was the wind in his ears and the ticking of the gears from inside the clock face like a beating heart. Sora didn’t respond to his presence, so deep in his own thoughts that the world had ceased to exist around him. Hayner huffed in indignation at the thought of being ignored and shoved the ice cream into Sora’s face.

“Here,” he remarked bluntly. “Eat it before it melts.”

That seemed to be enough to pull Sora back to reality. His sapphire eyes were drawn to the sky-blue treat in front of him and he accepted it wordlessly. He was looking at the ice cream like he didn’t believe it was real. Hayner greedily dug into his own ice cream, biting a chunk off and chewing it in a way that he knew made Pence cringe but did it anyway because it was funny. Instead of tasting his own bar, Sora instead dragged his gaze away and locked eyes with Hayner.

An expression of grief crossed Sora’s face, marring his features and reminding Hayner of a boy with blonde spiky hair in a black trench coat who wandered around like a lost lamb and who he had never seen again. As soon as the expression showed itself Sora suddenly snapped out of his trance. He flinched and almost jumped backwards right out of his skin in fright, head whirling around like he had just woken from a coma. Hayner had to physically prevent the flailing boy from falling off the tower.

“Whoa, dude, calm down!” he exclaimed. He didn’t really know what to do.

Thankfully Sora started to pull himself together before he took the plummet. Ice cream still safe in one hand, his panicked gave way to confusion but at least he wasn’t an immediate danger to himself anymore. The brunette’s attention flicked between the cold treat, the endless sky before him, and the increasingly concerned blonde that was wondering if he should do a runner while the going was good. Seeing that his outburst was distressing his companion, Sora let out a nervous laugh and reflexively rubbed his nose with his free hand.

“Sorry,” he began, allowing a meek smile to curve his lips. “I’ve been sleepwalking a lot lately. Sorry if I freaked you out.”

Hayner suspected that Sora was hiding something from him yet again, but decided that this was just too complex of an issue to break. The brunette was unable to get his mind off the melting blue snack in his hand, the smell of sugar wafting up and caressing his nose as melted syrup threaten to trickle down his fingers. He stuck his tongue out and took a big lick, the cold from the ice cream building into a headache.

“Ooh!” he exclaimed. “It’s salty… but sweet!”

Hayner guffawed at the sight of the Keyblade wielder childishly devouring the dessert and allowed himself to relax a little, chomping own on his own before the ice cream could get away from him. Sora really straddled the line between battle-worn veteran and innocent teenager, and it was a side of the brunette that too few people were privy too. Hayner couldn’t help but wish that he allowed his guard down a little more, but considering that he could be called in to battle at a moment’s notice there was probably a reason for his defensive nature.

The two sat in silence for a moment, but it was not an uncomfortable one. Hayner usually tried to punctuate silences with jokes or tall tales, preferring a raucous atmosphere over the stillness that seemed to permeate every inch of the city, just like the unchanging twilight that engulfed the place. It wasn’t often that the blonde found himself struggling to make conversation, but he wasn’t certain if the two really had anything in common. Hayner lived a life of luxury, his biggest struggle coming down to trying to drag himself to school and whether to go to the beach or not. Sora hadn’t even spoken about his own hometown, how long had it been since he was able to see his parents or take a break?

They were the same age, but Hayner felt like a child in Sora’s presence.

“This place is beautiful,” Sora mused in a rare moment of serenity. “Everyone’s so friendly. You guys sure are lucky.”

“Nahh…”  Hayner replied, unable to keep a grin off his face. “It’s lame, there’s hardly anything to do around here.”

“That’s what I mean,” Sora replied wistfully. “It must be nice.”

Hayner wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Funny how two people so similar could be so different. What a life to lead that anyone would crave the doldrum and boredom, that wasting away under the sun would be preferable to what he had now. He wondered if Sora had any friends, or if he had to leave everyone behind each time he was called to action.

“I have to say, though,” said Sora as he sat up with a little more pep. “You surprised me a lot!”

 _“Me?!”_ Hayner half expected the brunette to be referring to someone else that had snuck up behind them, but his attention was firmly fixed on his companion.

“Yeah! You really tried to show those Nobodies who’s boss around here, even though you don’t have a weapon that can hurt them. That’s pretty impressive.”

Hayner snorted and jumped to his feet, his ego emboldened by the praise. He did his best to flex his arms and show off his muscles, but only succeeding in looking like he was about to pop a vein in his forehead.

“Too right!” he proclaimed. “Did you see how _cool_ I was?! I grabbed that one and drop kicked it and then suplexed another and-“

Sora let Hayner continue on his ecstatic rant as he flexed and gestured with all the bravado in the world, content with sitting and watching the blonde without interruption. He couldn’t keep a smile off his face, even with how tired he felt, the awkward atmosphere well and truly broken as the two chatted like old friends. The brunette didn’t even notice the popsicle stick had been licked clean to reveal the word “WINNER” engraved into the wood. Deep inside his heart the heavy weight that had coiled up in his chest released its grip and was replaced with a sensation of relief and peace.

Hayner was glad he didn’t give on Sora. Perhaps they could still be friends after all.


	3. Xion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This story wasn’t written with shipping in mind, but if you want to interpret it that way then go for it. TW for panic attack in this chapter btw, just in case.

Xion couldn’t remember having ever ‘woken up’ before. It wasn’t a wholly pleasant experience.

She lay completely still in the bed she found herself in, eyes wide open but the room was engulfed in darkness so impenetrable that she was unable to see anything in front of her own face. She wondered for a while if she had gone blind – she couldn’t recall what having vision was like. That seemed odd for some reason, but she felt no fear or sense of urgency towards the realisation. Xion ran her hands over the silky sheets that enclosed her body, each fold of the fabric brushing against her palms and sending twitches up her forearms as it tickled her exposed skin. The fabric must not have weighed more than a couple of pounds but she felt like it was dragging her into the mattress.

Every sensation was so foreign to her, as if she was experiencing life for the first time.

That feeling of unease continued to grow inside of her chest like a tumour, but there was no rising panic to accompany it. Xion couldn’t remember the feeling of fabric against her skin, so why wouldn’t it feel strange to her? That felt right. Sitting up in bed, she rotated her legs off the side and pulled herself to her feet. The creaking of the floorboards under her feet seemed so loud in the quiet house as the aging wood settled under her weight. For all she was unable to see, the smell of salt in the air was distinctive and so _familiar,_ thought Xion couldn’t place the memory. It slipped out of her grasp whenever she reached for it like smoke through her fingers.

She really needed to do something about the whole ‘not seeing anything’ thing. Arms outstretched, Xion cautiously picked her way forward through the room, stepping around obstacles that she couldn’t see but somehow knew were there. When she collided with the wall her fingers brushed against a switch, which she flipped. The room was flooded with light as the power came on, and she covered her eyes with one arm as the sudden contrast burned her retinas.

Xion did at least feel like she knew this place – this was her bedroom. Those blue bed sheets and glow-in-the-dark star stickers on the ceiling were proof of that. She would toss and turn here all night, filled to bursting point with child-like energy at the thought of getting up at the crack of dawn to go play with Riku and Kairi. The nights felt so long as she resisted the urge to hop out the window into the sands below and row to the island, getting a head start on the two. Riku would be so mad if he saw that Xion had finished the raft without him!

**_“I just can’t wait! Once we set sail it’ll be great.”_ **

**_Xion couldn’t contain her grin at the thought. The three of them would be swashbuckling pirates, sailing the seas together and going on all manner of crazy adventures. Maybe she and Riku would slay a kraken or find some cursed gold! Kairi would be so impressed. Her thoughts were interrupted by an enormous flash of lightning, arcing through the sky and striking the ground outside as the storm raged on. She had noticed the dark clouds spiralling above the island earlier that day, but had given it the benefit of the doubt. Destiny Islands got a lot of tropical storms this time of year – it would pass by the morning._ **

**_But the more Xion watched the storm as it grumbled and groaned under its own weight, the more the storm brewing in her own heart raged on. If the lightning struck the raft, or if the waves swept the rickety boat away, they would lose three days of work. By the time her and Riku put it back together and Kairi collected a new batch of supplies it would almost be time for school to start up again. They wouldn’t have enough time together to go on their adventures. She couldn’t let that happen. She scrambled out of the window, just missing the voice of her mother calling her from the other room._ **

**_“ ~~Sora~~ Xion, dinners ready!”_ **

**_“ ~~Sora~~ Xion?”_ **

The pain hit her like a train. Waves of nausea crashed against her body as she struggled to even stay upright, head between her hands. It took all she had to choke down a scream that threatened to tear from her throat. Her eyes wouldn’t stop watering with the stress. There were so many painful memories locked up in this house, sleeping monsters ready to pounce and drag her into despair. She didn’t know if she wanted to remember. The tide began to ebb as the headache receded, leaving Xion leaning against the wall for support as her legs threatened to give out under her.

She needed to get out of here. She _needed_ to get out of here.

Xion stumbled out of the room, the pain sluggishly fading but the confusion refused to release her heart from its grasp. She knocked a picture frame off the wall in her stupor, the image of Xion standing next to a woman that looked just like her but who had no name encased within the protective glass like a tomb. Finding her way to the bathroom, she attempted to void her stomach into the porcelain toilet but nothing would come up. The back of her throat burned with the effort but it was a solid reminder that she was here. Present. Alive. In a macabre sort of way it was reassuring, and she could feel the bestial terror unsinking its claws from her mind. Taking some deep breaths, she stood back up and cleaned her face, the cold water shocking her system but also clearing her mind.

The reflection looking back at her in the mirror was bringing some of the confusion back, but Xion didn’t know why. Everything was as she remembered it – sapphire blue eyes, brown spiky hair, a crown necklace. Yeah, she remembered looking like this at some point. There was something off about the image, though, like she had been replaced with an identical twin or imposter that was just ever so slightly off-model. It was unnerving, and the fact that Xion didn’t know why wasn’t helping. Puffing her cheeks out in indignation, she pulled the crown trinket around her neck until the chain snapped clean off. Somehow the sight of her without the pendant made her feel a little better. She left it by the sink.

Stepping outside, the smell of salt in the air increased tenfold as the ocean breeze whipped through her chocolate hair. The skies above her were so clear she could easily see every star winking back at her, the moon caressing her skin lovingly. It was amazing how the tranquillity of the islands could banish any stress and fear bubbling away inside her heart in an instant. She smiled softly and allowed her eyes to slip closed in relaxation, head tipped back against the sea winds. Xion had visited countless worlds on her journey, but Destiny Islands would always be the place she would call _home,_ even if her ambitions had outgrown the place a little bit.

She jogged down the wooden pathway leading towards the pier, the wind in her hair filling her heart with joy until she felt like she would burst. This was the life she knew, surrounded by friends and loved ones, where even the island sang back to her like it was alive. The memory of the islands being devoured by the storm was still fresh in her mind and she was drawn towards the docks, hoping to find a boat she could ‘borrow’ to visit and check on the status of the raft. Xion just wouldn’t be able to get any sleep without checking that their plans were still set for tomorrow morning. She would spend uncountable hours on that beach, sparring with her friends and daring each other to climb the trees for the ripest coconuts.

Funny, she couldn’t remember the name of her friends…

**_~~Sora~~ Xion wanted to say something that would make Aladdin feel better, but the weight of the situation crushed her mind and swallowed the words. They had defeated Jafar but Jasmine was gone, her light devoured by the darkness just like many before her. If she dug his fingers into her palms any harder she would have drawn blood, the guilt eating away at her heart at the knowledge that she had failed to protect Aladdin’s special someone. She knew how it felt when ~~Kairi~~ ~~Aqua~~ Kairi was taken from her, snatched away in front of her face while she stood and did nothing. She wouldn’t wish it on anyone._ **

Xion stumbled in the sand as the headache returned with a vengeance. Her vision swam for a moment and she let out a strained groan. Why was she getting so confused about her friend’s name? Kairi was one of her best friend, red hair like amber and eyes full of kindness that she didn’t deserve.

**_Aladdin didn’t seem to need any comforting words. He had been pondering Genie’s proposition in silence, head in a resigned pose, but he firmly stood up with determination blazing in his brown eyes. In that moment ~~Sora~~ Xion envied the strength that the street rat exuded from his being._ **

**_“I wish for your freedom, Genie!”_ **

**_Genie tried to protest, insisting that Aladdin use his final wish to bring Jasmine back, but his magic was bound to follow the words of his master. An enormous cloud of smoke belched out of the magic lamp, obscuring Genie’s lower half until it dissolved to reveal a pair of legs so he could stand and walk for himself. His golden cuffs shattered like glass and the ethereal glow that enveloped the magic lamp faded until it was nothing more than an old rusty bronze lamp._ **

**_“A deal’s a deal, Genie,” Aladdin affirmed. “Now you can go anywhere you want. You’re your own master.”_ **

That must be nice, to be your own master. Xion knew in her heart that she had never been given the same opportunity, like she always had someone behind her pulling her strings and guiding her movements until she no longer knew what she wanted herself. She would kill for the freedom to just get on a train and go, no destination in mind, and just see where life took her.

But, didn’t she already have that freedom? The Gummiship could jet between worlds easily, as long as she didn’t mishandle the cannons like last time, and Donald and Goofy had insisted she call them if she fancied going world hopping. If she was feeling particularly brave she even had the whole of the Realm of Darkness or the World That Never Was as her stomping grounds, the Heartless and Nobodies that still infested the worlds like cockroaches now leaderless and ripe for the picking. There was no reason for her to feel so trapped, so why couldn’t she shake the feeling?

What was she not remembering?

Scrambling back up from the dent she had made in the sand with her fall, Xion was relieved to see a few canoes precariously tethered to the pier, gently bobbing in the water. The brunette hopped into the nearest one without a second thought and dropped the rope, letting the boat loose so it could float freely in the calm waves. She wanted so badly to just lie down in the boat and let it carry her wherever it wanted, but she the drive to visit the island was consuming her thoughts. She picked up the oars before realising that she didn’t know how to row. That was weird, she’d lived on the islands all her life. Why couldn’t she remember how to row?

Whatever, it didn’t matter. It took her a little longer than she wanted but she did eventually reach the island. Trying to navigate the uncooperative boat by moonlight was harder than she ever would have imagined, but the feeling of white sand between her toes brought her back. She had spent so much time on this tiny island that she swore it was more of a home than her actual house! All concerns were washed away as if the island itself was welcoming her back, and a bright smile made its way across her face.

Rolling her plaid pyjamas pants up to her knees, Xion trekked out into the water. It was absolutely freezing and stung her exposed toes, but she didn’t mind. Her heart was soaring, and if she wasn’t wearing cotton PJs she would have dived headfirst into the water. The cold that slowly crept into her bones couldn’t bring down the fire in her heart, and she found herself laughing brightly although she wasn’t sure what for. She just wished her friends could be by her side for this – moments of unadulterated joy seemed so few and far between these days.

**_~~Sora~~ Xion grinned and heartily accepted the ice cream, biting into it unceremoniously and feeling the melted treat run down her throat and face in equal measures. The overwhelming sweetness of the dessert was complimented by the saltiness in a way that no other ice cream had been able to replicate. ~~Sora~~ Xion shared a warm smile with her friends, ~~Terra~~ ~~Axel~~ ~~Riku~~ stoically raising a single eyebrow in amusement and ~~Aqu~~ a ~~Roxas~~ ~~Kairi~~ returning the infectious expression. There was nowhere else she would rather be-_ **

No. Something wasn’t right there.

Sora allowed the smile to slip off his face, uncertainty tainting his heart as the chill from the cold ocean water started to grip more than just his legs. He had meant to show his friends the wonders of sea salt ice cream, but the trio had never found the time. They had never shared ice cream together. He tried again.

**_~~Sora~~ Xion grinned and heartily accepted the ~~ice cream~~ Paopu fruit, biting into in unceremoniously and feeling the ~~melted treat~~ fruit juice run down her throat and face in equal measures. The overwhelming sweetness of the dessert was complimented by the ~~saltiness in a way that no other ice cream had been able to replicate~~ sweetness of the dessert. ~~Sora~~ Xion shared a warm smile with her friends, ~~Terra~~ ~~Axel~~ ~~Riku~~ ~~Ephemer~~ stoically raising a single eyebrow in amusement and ~~Aqu~~ a ~~Roxas~~ ~~Kairi~~ ~~Skuld~~ returning the infectious expression. There was nowhere else she would rather be-_ **

No, it still wasn’t right! What was happening to her, why were all her memories scrambled like this? She was _there_ when this all happened, she lived through all these events, these memories were hers! No one else's! Her vision was swimming so badly she couldn’t remain standing upright, her knees soaked with sea water as she dropped down into the waves. Who were all these people and why wouldn’t they just leave her alone?!

**_~~Sora~~ Xion choked back the tears as she pummelled Riku in his defenceless stomach with her Keyblade. She had travelled across every corner of the multiverse, taken down Heartless ten time her size, all in the name of saving her friends and bringing them home. The notion that Riku was now opposing her and was doing everything in his power to stop her in her path was unfathomable. She felt betrayed, violated somehow. The two were supposed to be best friends! What had Maleficent done to him?!_ **

Xion didn’t want to remember. It hurt so badly.

**_Even now, Riku faced him with an animalistic hunger in his cyan eyes, the darkness brewing inside his heart and poisoning his mind. The two had sparred many times before, but ~~Sora~~ Xion knew that the Riku standing in front of him wouldn’t hesitate to kill him if he gave him the chance. Whether it was due to possession or not, he had to accept that his best friend was gone, at least for now. This was just another Heartless to fight, another enemy to defeat in the name of saving his friends. The Keyhole seemed to laugh back at him._ **

Stop it, she didn’t want this! These weren’t her memories, she wasn’t Sora!

**_Sora knew what he had to do. He refused to accept that he was unable to save Riku’s heart, but there was still something he could do for Kairi. She lay lifeless before him, comatose as if she was barely alive, her chest gently rising and falling like she was completely unaware of the world around her. It only seemed like days ago that the three were constructing a raft so they could leave the islands together and sail the world, but now Sora wasn’t sure they would even be able to go home together. He would give anything to go back to how it was before, but that wasn’t possible. Not anymore._ **

**_Picking up Riku’s abandoned Keyblade, he cringed at the scalding feeling that spread across his palm and up his arm as it tried to reject him. The pain just made the brunette grip tighter. He was fine with what he was about to do. He was fine. Maybe if he repeated that phrase enough he could convince himself that it was true. Nothing mattered to him more than the body of his best friend in front of him. It would be OK._ **

**_Without a second thought, Sora plunged the Keyblade into his chest and released his heart. It hurt, it hurt so much, but only for a moment. Then it was quiet, and Sora could rest._ **

**_Sora._ **

Sora.

* * *

Kairi tried not to blame herself for what happened. Some days were better than others.

The three friends had been torn about whether returning to Destiny Islands was the right thing to do. Both the good and the bad memories brought unbelievable pain to her heart, even the thoughts of the days they had spent on the beach and under the sun together a bleak reminder of how things used to be. Kairi had hoped returning to their family homes would give them some stability in the turbulent ocean that had swept away their lives together, but the hurt never went away. She hadn’t even been back to the island since they returned, the tranquillity and peace had been replaced by overwhelming grief. She couldn’t bring herself to face it.

More than once she had considered moving back to Radiant Garden. It was her childhood home after all, and she knew Sora had people there who would take him under their wing in a heartbeat. Maybe it would be a fresh start, a chance to leave the past behind and make a new home for themselves, but Sora and Riku didn’t agree, and she couldn’t bring herself to leave them behind.

Riku had spent so long trapped within the inky depths of darkness that he didn’t consider anywhere in the Realm of Light home to him. Even after everything was said and done, he still wasn’t able to let the darkness in his heart go. Sora had spent such a long time jumping between worlds and leaving everyone behind as he did so, he could barely recall the islands when he returned. He wanted to reconnect with the islands that his heart had forgotten, and Riku was content to follow Sora wherever the brunette went, so it was settled.

The decision to stay wasn’t an easy one, but it was one that all three made together. Kairi didn’t ultimately care where they went, the only caveat was that they remained together. The three had been brought together and pulled apart so many times that she feared even her memories of them would begin to fade and be replaced by the all-encompassing ache that had already marred her childhood memories. Hell, the three could have moved to the Realm of Darkness and Kairi would’ve thrown her heart to the wolves if that’s what they wanted from her.

After all they had been through, Kairi was not going to let them get away from her again.

She knew it was going to be easiest for her. The redhead had returned to Destiny Islands after Sora defeated Ansem and slipped back into her daily life for around a year before Axel kidnapped her, so the experience was not quite as jarring as she thought it would be. She already had friends waiting for her; Tidus, Wakka and Selphie were a close-knit trio but Kairi could tell they were going out of their way to accommodate her so she was never left out. She appreciated it – it made life on the islands a whole lot more bearable even without the other two parts of her heart.

It was a whole lot harder for Sora and Riku. Kairi had done everything she could to keep Riku’s betrayal at the back of their minds, but even thought the rest of the island was just happy to see him home safely she could tell the silver-haired boy was struggling. It didn’t matter how many times Riku stressed that he had let go of the past and had forgiven himself, he was a bad liar. It showed every time he looked at Sora, his cyan eyes flickering with regrets that he was unable to voice. Kairi wanted to help but she didn’t know what words to say.

Sora initially took the change better than expected. His naturally friendly nature made integrating back into their community easy, but while he could hide his discontent from the others Kairi wasn’t so easily fooled. She noticed every time the brunette became uncharacteristically quiet, staring off into space or out a window with a forlorn expression on his face and then suddenly snapping back to reality, disoriented and confused. His heart wasn’t made to stay in one place, he wanted to go and explore as far as his eyes could see and then even farther. Kairi feared that if she let him go, he would never return. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing him again.

The three had moved back into Sora’s old house. Kairi’s grandmother had tried to talk them into staying with her, promising hot meals and fresh sheets every night, but there just wasn’t enough room and she knew it. The redhead was apprehensive about taking refuge inside the once abandoned house, since Sora’s mother… well. The walls were still lined with pictures of the Keyblade wielder and his mother together, the house untouched since it was pulled back from the clutches of darkness along with the rest of the island. Kairi was concerned about Sora opening himself back up to those volatile memories, but he barely seemed to notice.

Kairi knew he was refusing to face his fears, but she didn’t know how to help him.

Instead, she tried to be there for her friends in other ways. She had to physically force Riku to socialise so he wouldn’t spend all his time brooding, her and Sora dragging him along with the others despite his complaints. For a while it felt like the whole gang was back together, the six of them laughing and joking along just like old times. Moments like that gave Kairi hope, but it never lasted. Some days Riku would lock himself away, snapping at anyone who tried to pull him out of his funk and refusing to make eye contact. He would shout that no one understood how he felt, and Kairi knew he was right.

Sora… she wasn’t so sure of. She had always described Riku as being the complex one, his emotions guarded and secrets held close to his heart, and she wasn’t sure when he and Sora had swapped roles. Riku could be difficult to deal with when his temper got the better of him, but it was such a rare and precious moment to see him express his emotions at _all_ that it gave Kairi a real glimpse into how his heart was healing. Sora appeared like he was coping to the untrained eye, but Kairi could see how tired he was. The brunette refused to allow anyone to see his true feelings, hidden behind layers of positivity and friendliness that masked his heart and the suffering it was enduring.

She wished she knew how to get Sora to open up to her, but every day he seemed to slip further away from her.

Kairi had been warned about Sora’s sleepwalking in advance. How he would wake at all hours of the night completely unresponsive to anyone around him and wander without purpose, eventually snapping out of his trance with no recollection of where he was or how he got there. The redhead worried that he would accidentally walk straight into the ocean outside their shared front door, but Riku refused to let her camp outside his door. He wouldn’t allow her to sacrifice her own health in the name of her friends – he had done the same thing and knew the dark path it would lead her down. She was grateful that he was still looking out for her when she didn’t know how to do it herself.

She compromised. Taking the room next to Sora so she would be the first to know if his breathing faltered in his sleep, she only allowed herself to rest when she could be certain that Sora was doing the same. It was a difficult decision to make, but Sora had done so much for her that she had no way to pay him back for. It was a small price to pay; he had kept her heart safe, so she would do the same for him. She often dreamt of wielding a Keyblade of her own so the three of the could stand on the frontline together, _anything_ so the three wouldn’t need to be separated again.

She was so deep in sleep, dreaming of a battlefield that she had never visited, that she almost missed the sound of strained vomiting.

It first she thought it was a fragment of her dream bleeding through to reality, but the noise continued even as she opened her eyes. It was muffled through the multiple closed doors but it was a sound the redhead was familiar with. Her drowsy mind didn’t immediately put the puzzle pieces together until she remembered the reason why she was so quick to rouse from sleep. Sora. Her tiredness vanished in an instant as she jolted up in bed, her crimson hair messy and eyes bleary but brain fully engaged. Kairi didn’t even bother switching any lights on, tiptoeing across the exposed wood flooring so as not to disturb the still sleeping Riku in the next room, and tentatively poked her head out of her door.

“Sora?” she whispered. No reply.

Kairi picked her way down the shadowy hallway, almost stumbling over a picture frame that was lying face down on the floor.  Thankfully the glass hadn’t shattered; she picked it up and flipped it over. It was a photo of Sora and his mother posing in front of the boat she had purchased for him, grinning brightly and the beginnings of sunburn evident across both of their cheeks. Kairi gave a faint smile and returned it to its place on the wall. She had accepted that forcing Sora to face his memories surrounding his mother would only cause more harm than good, but she really wished he would find the courage to battle his inner demons sooner rather than later.

Kairi reached their shared bathroom, the soft glow of light peeking from under the door indicating that it had recently been used. She let out a sigh of relief, grateful that she had managed to catch up to Sora before he could hurt himself. If he was having a sleepwalking episode, Kairi would just put herself in the doorway and block him until he came to his senses. She wasn’t stupid enough to think that the Keyblade wielder couldn’t overpower her, but it was all she could offer so it would have to be enough. Bracing herself, she rapped on the back of the door with her knuckles.

“Sora? You OK in there?”

No response.

Kairi really didn’t want to have to force her way in there. There was a difference between protecting her vulnerable friend and invading his privacy, and there were some things she was _not_ ready to see. She knocked on the door again, a little more firmly this time, but was dismayed to hear only silence in return. The redhead felt the worry that she was trying to keep under control rising to the front of her mind. Sora could be in there, passed out on the floor or scared out of his mind. She thought of what Riku would do in this situation.

He would kick down the door.

Kairi wasn’t that violently inclined, so attempted to merely open it normally instead. It wasn’t locked. Swinging the door open, she mentally prepared herself for walking in on her friend using the toilet or something, but the bathroom was completely empty. The only sign that it had previously been occupied was the toilet seat, which had been left up **yet again** – that’s what she got for living with two boys – and the familiar silver crown pendant attached to a delicate chain that had been snapped in two and abandoned by the sink. The brunette had never taken it off since his mother bought it for him, claiming it was a good luck charm and it would help him finally beat Riku’s winning streak in their sparring. It didn’t.

If Sora had taken it off, then…

Kairi was no longer concerned about the amount of noise she was making. She bolted out of the bathroom and almost tore the front door off its hinges, dreading that she would see that messy chocolate mop of hair disappearing beneath the waves before she could do anything. Thankfully there were no signs of any bodies in the water, the crystal-clear ocean disturbed only by the ripples that came from a wooden boat disappearing into the darkness over the water. _Sora._ Her mind didn’t even consider fetching Riku, her heart consumed with repeating thoughts that she was about to lose Sora yet again if she didn’t follow. The window of opportunity was so small, she had to go **now.** She was not letting him go again.

She sprinted towards the pier as fast as her legs could carry her, kicking sand up in her wake as she practically threw herself into the nearest boat. She was clad in only a silk nightie so the cold night air pierced her skin lie needles but she barely noticed. She paddled the wooden oars until her arms screamed in pain, desperate to close the distance between the two boats. It was too dark to see the occupant she was chasing after, but her heart knew it was her friend. He was going towards the island. _That_ island.

The last time Kairi had visited the island was when Sora and Riku had reappeared there, spat out into the Realm of Light after taking down Xemnas. The thought of the abandoned and rotting treehouse, the carvings on the walls, and the lonely Paopu tree were too much to handle. These were not the circumstances she was hoping for; she felt like Riku was being left out after she struggled so hard to get him to include himself. She had hoped the three of them could return to the island together and find the closure they so desperately needed as a trio, but it seemed that was not what fate had in store.

Her boat scraped along the sea floor as it beached itself, the waters too shallow to keep the boat floating. If she squinted, Kairi could make out the figure of Sora, knee deep in the water and unmoving like a statue. He was so still, head tipped back against the wind flowing through his hair, that he was almost like an apparition. Kairi could only feel relief knowing that she’d made it in time. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting to see when she chased after him, but her heart feared the worst.

The water became too shallow for the boat to travel further, and it ground to a halt with Kairi inside. She jerked forward abruptly with the collision, almost falling her knees. She didn’t want to take her eyes off Sora, afraid that if she even dared to blink he would disappear into thin air. The water felt like icy to her bare feet as she hopped out of the boat, but she fought through the pain. Her legs carried her forward as fast as they could, dragging through the chilly water and splashing up her legs until she was soaked through. Her mind was so fixated on the brunette in front of her that nothing else existed.

As she approached, dragging air into her lungs with the exertion of fighting against the pull of the water, Sora broke out of his peaceful trance and hunched over, both hands on his hand. He let out a groan and toppled to the ground, knees splashing into the water and crushing his head like a vice. Kairi’s elation evaporated in an instant at the sight of Sora’s suffering and she furiously sped up. His groans became screams of pain as he struggled against an invisible enemy like he was fighting for air.

“SORA!” Kairi yelled, struggling to be heard above the wailing tearing from the throat of the Keyblade wielder. His eyes were squeezed shut and she couldn’t tell if his face was marred with ocean spray or tears. She tried to put a hand on his shoulder but he pulled about as if the redhead had caused him pain just with the gentle touch.

“ **NO!** ” he demanded, trying to back off but unable to coordinate his movements. “GO AWAY! DON’T TOUCH ME!”

Kairi didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what to do.

“IT HURTS! I DON’T WANT TO REMEMBER!”

She didn’t know what to do.

“THEY WON’T SHUT UP! GET OUT OF MY HEAD! AXEL, ROXAS, _HELP ME!”_

Kairi reeled her right arm back and slapped Sora **hard** across the face.

The force was enough to send the brunette flying backwards, falling on his back into the water and soaking the rest of his pyjamas. The silence that fell over the island in the wake of his outburst was somehow even more deafening. The only thing Kairi could hear was the crashing of the waves and the blood rushing through her head. For a moment she though the strike had clean knocked Sora out; he was lying completely still on his back, arms spread and eyes staring up the sky above him. If the two were any deeper in the water, the ocean would have claimed his head and filled his lungs, but as it stood his blue eyes simply held a glassy stare.

_What had she done._

The shock of her action wore off in the blink of an eye, and Kairi burst into tears. She flung herself at the downed Keyblade wielder, weeping openly and holding on to his figure for dear life. Sora tried to sit up but the combined weight of the two threatened to pin him down. The confusion that bled into his mind wasn’t enough to stop him from instinctively wrapping his arms around Kairi’s waist, clinging onto her fragile waist as the warmth of her body helped to stave off the cold. Kairi just seemed to cry harder.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry-“ she repeated through the tears like a mantra.

“Kairi…” Sora managed to squeeze out as her grip on his chest tightened with each breath. “Where are we?”

The redhead was unable to respond through her tears, hiccups wracking her body as she tried to breath through the sobs. Sora was stricken with confusion, unable to fathom why his friend was crying or why they were both laying in the ocean. He cast his eyes around in an attempt to glean any kind of insight as to what happened, and his attention was drawn to the silhouette of the curved Paopu tree against the ethereal white moon and the intense stinging in his cheek like a fresh sunburn.

“Whoa, hey!” Sora exclaimed, sitting upright and holding Kairi at arms distance. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?!”

Kairi tried to get her crying under control, wiping her face to clear the tears but instead just smearing salt water on her cheeks. Her hair was saturated with water and clung to her round face as her cheeks puffed up with the force of her despair.

“You- I- I followed you, a-and you were sleepwalking, and- and I didn’t know what to do-“ she gasped, trying to force her words out but visibly struggling.

Sora knew about his sleepwalking problem, but Kairi’s words brought his worst fears to mind. He couldn’t remember anything between falling asleep in the warmth of his childhood bed and then waking up in the arms of his weeping friend, but if he had hurt her while he was out then he would never forgive himself. His grip on the redhead’s shoulders increased and a sense of urgency filled his voice.

“Kairi… Did _I_ hurt you?”

“ _WHAT!_ ” Kairi exclaimed, the shock of Sora’s statement pulling her out of her misery for just a moment. “ _No!_ No Sora, you didn’t do anything wrong, I promise!” She continued to sniffle but just the fact that Sora was finally responding to her began to settle her mind. “You came out here, a-and I followed you… you were freaking out, yelling about Axel and Roxas, and I- I didn’t know what to do so I hit you and- and-“

Her tears started up again, the dam broken as the reality of what she had done began to sink into her mind. She had attacked one of her best friends, the boy who had sheltered her fractured heart and travelled into the depths of darkness for her, and this is what she gave him in return. Sora pulled the crying redhead back into his chest, rubbing her back and rocking them back and forth as the tears continued to fall. She was faintly aware of the brunette whispering something comforting to her but her head echoed so badly with her own grief that she couldn’t focus on what he was saying. The pressure of his arms around her was almost too much to bear.

The two remained intertwined until Kairi’s sobs faded into sniffs, then finally into nothing. She would’ve remained in his embrace until the world ended if she could, but her sorrow was replaced by a sense of guilt. It should be the other way around, she should be comforting _him._ His breakdown was the first outburst of emotion she had witnessed from the Keyblade wielder since they had moved back home, confirming her suspicions that he was not being completely honest with them. Kairi wished there was some way she could show Sora that it was OK to be truthful about how he felt, but in doing she had neglected her own feelings and they were now pouring out of her uncontrollably. Just the weight of his body against hers was a reminder that they were both here, both alive.

Kairi was the first to release her hold, and Sora followed suit. She sat back on her feet and rubbed her sore eyes, her crying fit finally over and leaving a gaping hole in her chest.

“I’m sorry,” Kairi sniffed. “I promised myself I would be strong for you, but…”

Sora shook his head firmly, smiling through it all.

“Don’t apologise. Following me out here and then smacking me seems pretty strong to me.”

Kairi couldn’t hold her laughter back, even though it was mixed with tears. She realised the two of them must look pretty dumb sitting in the shallow waters in the middle of the night together, but it almost felt like old times. Sora chuckled back at her, relief evident in his face.

“Come on,” he said, standing up and extending one hand. “Let’s head back home.”

Kairi smiled enthusiastically and took his hand, using his weight to pull herself to her feet. She had been so consumed with the thought of losing her friends that he hadn’t considered that they wouldn’t want to leave at all. She still longed for the day that she could take a stand by both Riku and Sora’s sides and the three could fight together, but that day would come when the time was right. Rather than dream about the future she needed to focus on the reality that was in front of her, and that meant being as honest with them as she wanted them to be with her.

Sora made it very clear: he wasn’t going anywhere.


	4. Vanitas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know the novel isn’t technically canon, but I like Vanitas’ backstory in it so just pretend, OK? Also, way to end the story with an epic fight scene! That I had to write twice! Thanks to everyone who left comments or kudos, it’s what keeps me going. I hope I see you all for the next one.

Vanitas was awake, and that could only mean one thing. Xehanort had failed.

Some days it felt like the black-haired boy couldn't catch a break. The only reason Vanitas had even joined Xehanort’s cause to begin with was because he promised a way out, a way to escape the pain that consumed his half-baked heart. His entrance into the world was not a pleasant one, ripped violently out of Ventus’ heart and forced into existence as an imitation of a whole being but with only half the ingredients. He didn’t even have enough of his own essence to congeal the darkness that sustained him into a useful form at first, existing as a black formless shadow with only glowing red eyes to differentiate himself from any of the lesser Heartless that existed alongside him.

That was, until the day he suddenly gained a form. It wouldn’t be until many years later that it would become apparent that his appearance was not his own, stolen from the heart of a nameless child that had sacrificed their own heart to protect Ventus from the clutches of death. In a sense, the child had also indirectly saved Vanitas, although it was not appreciated. Every wave of misery that swept over the black-haired boy spawned the Unversed, creatures just as reviled as he was for their mere existence, and every time _they_ were destroyed his own pain would just increase their numbers.

Vanitas would’ve taken the sweet nothingness of the void over the pain of existence any day of the week, but fate was not so kind. While Ventus continued to breathe his light would shine strong, and that damned light sustained Vanitas in its shadow. The only way to release himself from the brutal cycle would be to take Ventus down with him, ending both halves of their joint life in a single fell swoop. That was what Xehanort had offered him, the opportunity to destroy the boy that had created him and the tools to do so.

Xehanort gave him the chance to die, and Vanitas had royally fucked it up. All the pieces were in place, the pawns had played their roles and all that was left was to call checkmate. But he _didn’t._ His heart came _so_ close to Ventus, the two halves clinging on to each other even as their respective owners fought viciously. Vanitas heard the call of the light, beckoning him into its arms and away from the pain of his cursed existence, and he didn’t doubt that Ventus heard it too. The incomplete χ-Blade vibrated in his hand at the sweet sound the light sung to him, ready to close the distance between the two for good. Xehanort could keep his lousy Kingdom Hearts, Vanitas just wanted to rest.

Ventus didn’t agree. Whether it was through the strength of his own heart, or through the unknown heart that had bolstered it since the day it plucked him from the fangs of death, the blonde had fought with all the ferocity of a cornered animal and overpowered his own darkness. Vanitas could barely remember the final blow, but he remembered how it felt to watch the χ-Blade slip from his grasp and shatter into twenty pieces. The one chance he had at saving himself was callously torn away in front of his amber eyes. If fate was merciful enough to give him just _one_ more minute - just enough time to regain his composure - he could finish the job, but Ventus’ heart had already had enough. It gave out under the stress of their battle and the two had faded into the darkness together.

If Vanitas was still alive, that meant that Ventus was too.

Vanitas grumbled, scowl muddying his features, and roughly stood up from the bed he had awoken in, sheets forgotten and tossed to the floor. He had hoped that would be the end of it, both hearts lost to the darkness where time didn’t exist and he could remain in sleep for all eternity. Sure, it wasn’t _quite_ the closure that he had hoped for, but he would take what he could get. The raven boy’s mind was fuzzy about how long he had drifted in stasis like that, but he could clearly recall feeling an impossibly bright light, brighter than even that of the χ-Blade that reminded him what it was like to feel the sun on his skin. Vanitas prayed as hard as his half-heart would allow that he had reconnected with Ventus and the two were about to escape their prison together, and he dove into the light.

Then he woke up here, wherever here was.

Vanitas may have failed in his attempt to form the χ-Blade with his brother, but if Ventus had still _died_ then he would’ve counted it as a victory, regardless how minor. Hell, it didn’t even need to be him that did it! Xehanort would’ve had every opportunity to plunge No Name in between Ventus’ ribs while he was incapacitated; he couldn’t fathom why the old man would have allowed the blonde to continue living after their scuffle. Xehanort was a pain in the ass, but he was also deviously intelligent.

Whatever, it didn’t matter now. Vanitas was alive and seemingly unharmed. He didn’t need some crippled old guy to stab some people in the chest – he could just find Ventus on his own and finish the job. It can’t have been that long since the two were swallowed by the darkness, so hopefully his brother was still injured and ripe for the picking. Their hearts were connected now so there was nowhere for him to hide. Vanitas would track him to the end of the universe if he needed to.

Smirking to himself now that he had a plan to set in motion, he placed one hand over his chest and closed his eyes. He could feel his pulse rushing through his veins at the touch. His brother’s heart wouldn’t be able to conceal itself from him for long. Focusing his minds eye, he strained for a moment and cried out into the void with all of his heart, and eagerly awaited the echo that would no doubt call back to him.

Wait a second, since when did he have a pulse?!

**_Heart or no heart, at least he still has a conscience. You might not hear it, but right now it's loud and clear. And it's telling me you're on the wrong side!_ **

**_Somebody knows where I came from. If I can't get answers here, I'll get them somewhere else. That'll be the person I trust._ **

**_How could he say that...? He's wrong. My Keyblade is not a sham, and neither am I!_ **

**_Please don't do this, Master. I'm not strong enough._ **

Vanitas couldn’t have imagined a pain worse than every time one of his Unversed were slain. He felt their cries in his bones, in his heart, reverberating inside his head, but nothing compared to this. The agony that ripped through his body was so severe that he couldn’t find the breath to scream, his heart about to burst through his chest as needles dug into every inch of his skin. His head felt like it was going to collapse in on itself as his mind filled with screams, coming from every direction and drowning out all his other senses.

Then a switch flipped and it was over.

He tentatively peeled his eyes open. Vanitas wasn’t sure when he had collapsed to the floor, head in his head, but any signs of the pain had completely vanished like it was never there, like the voices had suddenly been silenced. The room was dim, lit only by several candlesticks and the glow of the moon through the window, but he was certain that he was alone.

He had called out with his heart, and _four_ others had answered.

This was quickly passing absurdity and crossing the line into disturbing. One of those voices was undeniably Ventus, but Vanitas had no idea who the other three belonged to and they were so damn _loud_ as if they were standing right behind him. Who could possibly have such a powerful connection to his brother’s heart and why was it not the other two pain-in-the-ass apprentices? Vanitas needed to know what was going on, and _now_. His brother couldn’t keep his secrets for long.

Vanitas pulled himself to his feet and picked up the golden candelabra resting on the nightstand. The flames didn’t even flicker as they passed through the air, obviously lit by some magical means. Vanitas was concerned that the light source would give his position away to any would-be attackers, but the other option was to stumble around in the dark, so he would have to make do. Holding in his left hand so his right could be free to summon his Keyblade if necessary, he pushed his way through the imposing double doors and out into the world beyond.

Well, wherever he had been regurgitated into wasn’t a world he recognised. The hallway that greeted him seemed to go on forever in both directions, lined with windows in the shapes of crescent moons and stars. If Vanitas stood on his toes he could just see outside, the sight of a deep purple sky fading into impenetrable fog the only sight as far as the horizon. If he squinted hard enough he could _almost_ make out a train moving through the dense fog, but it vanished as soon as he blinked. The raven boy scowled to himself, the realisation that escape into the world outside was more of a pipe dream dampening his mood. The floor of the hallway was parted by a thick shag carpet, dyed crimson red and embellished with fine golden thread that seemed to move as the light from the candle danced across it. It was very harsh on the eyes, but whoever lived here was obviously loaded.

Vanitas picked his way down the hall, ears ready to detect even the slightest of noises, until he came across a jumbled set of furniture covered with off-white cloth. It wasn’t possible to make out what could be shrouded under the fabric, but the sizes and shapes weren’t consistent as if they were haphazardly thrown together. The smell of mothballs filled his nostrils, a departure from the opulent furnishings the black-haired boy had come across so far. He could almost make out faint whispers originating from whatever was hiding behind the cloth, the hairs on his neck standing on end with unease.

**_An image of the Keyblade unleashing its ultimate power flows into your mind._ **

Vanitas shook his head sharply, trying to banish the intruding thoughts from his mind. This wasn’t one of the voices that had assaulted him before, almost as if the words had no speaker behind them and were instead manifested from his own brain. Funnily enough, the actual image it was describing didn’t reveal itself to him, only the words themselves, as if they were intended for someone else. Vanitas didn’t know if someone was trying to trick him but he was getting real sick of all these people who thought they had the right to set up shop inside his head. His scowl deepened, forehead embedded with unsightly creases, and he ripped the fabric away to expose the assailant that was hiding beneath.

He was met with his own reflection. Or rather, he was met with a mirror.

Even in the dim lighting provided by the candelabra, Vanitas could immediately pick out the discrepancies in his appearance. Standing so close to the mirror that his breath left fog on the otherwise perfect glass, he inspected his face with a mixture of shock and concern. His features were exactly as he remembered them but the colours were completely different – jet black hair was replaced with chocolate spikes that seemed to defy gravity, and his sickly yellow eyes shone with a blue pigment like the ocean. Even his cheeks were rounder and healthier looking, although the deep-set bags under his eyes were the same.

Vanitas knew this face; it plagued him every time he looked in a mirror, only this time the foreign reflection refused to fade back to his own visage no matter how many times he clenched his eyes shut. He was never unlucky enough to have met the child that had willingly sacrificed his own heart to shelter Ventus in his darkest hour, but Vanitas’ own heart knew him well. This was _his_ face. He didn’t resemble his brother, he resembled the _boy._  Somehow his own disgruntled expression didn’t suit the brunette that stared back at him, which only made Vanitas angrier. It felt like he was looking into the eyes of an imposter, but he wasn’t sure if it was actually the other way around.

Come to think of it, that explained a lot…

The boy, whatever the hell his name was, had offered his own heart to Ventus and acted as an anchor, tethering his soul to the Realm of Light when it threatened to fade into obscurity. The boy’s light had fended off the darkness that sought to devour it, and filled in the space that Vanitas had left behind when he was torn out of it, taking a piece of Ventus with him that he would never get back. Their hearts were clearly already connected, so when Ventus had self-destructed to destroy the χ-Blade he already had a second heart to fall back on. But in the same way that a heart could be a hospital, it could also be a prison. What if Ventus was still there…

Bracing himself and growling as his stern expression caused his twin’s brows to furrow in an unsightly manner, he placed his right hand over his chest once more. There was no doubt in his mind that one of the voices that had screamed at him before was coming from Ventus, or at least what was left of his heart, and it stood to reason that one of the others was coming from the unknown boy. If his brother had taken refuge inside the brunette’s heart, then just _maybe_ Vanitas had too. It would be worth the pain it inflicted on him to find out. He had to try.

**_Look — whoever you are — you don't know the first thing about Terra. Me and him will always be a team!_ **

**_What are you talking about? We gotta find Kairi!_ **

**_It's okay, Aqua. Trust me, that guy in the mask is history. He'll never bad-mouth Terra again._ **

**_Forget it! There's no way you're taking Kairi's heart!_ **

It took everything that Vanitas had not to lose himself. The voices spun around and around in his head, his mind and the floor spinning with them until he could barely see. His own thoughts were drowned out by the noise as if caught in a tsunami. They just wouldn’t _shut up_. His own heart was too weak to fight off the hearts of the two boys that were credited with his existence, and they threatened to swallow what was left of him whole until only they remained behind.

Vanitas curled his fist and rocketed it into the glass mirror.

The glass shattered and crumbled to the floor with an almighty thunder clap, streaked with blood from his knuckles, but it was enough to silence his mind. He took several deep breaths as if his body had forgotten the taste of oxygen and waited until his limbs fully returned to his control. He pulled his hand back but the pain barely registered to him, as if the blood seeping between his knuckles belonged to someone else. He supposed it technically did.

If there was anything left of the mirror it would have reflected the malicious grin that crawled across Vanitas’ borrowed face. He was right – Ventus’ heart had been sucked back into place right alongside the heart that had linked itself to him all those years ago, and it had taken Vanitas with him. He didn’t know who the other two strangers were and frankly he didn’t care. If he allowed the barriers around his own fragments of a heart to weaken, the two would seep through like mould and wear away at him until his heart was just another cog in the machine. Vanitas didn’t intend for that to happen. If he wanted to be free from his suffering, he needed to take Ventus with him. His heart would continue to exist even as a shrivelled husk while his light still burned, but now he had a chance to extinguish it for good.

If Ventus was needing the boy to keep him alive, Vanitas could take all three out in one go by ending the brunette’s life. All three could be free of the curse that tied them together, and Vanitas could finally get the peace he dreamed of.

An insane laugh burst out of his mouth before he could silence it. Here he was thinking that fate had shafted him once more, but it couldn’t be further from the truth! It wasn’t in the way he was expecting, but his brother had practically played right into his hands, and this time there was no stopping him. There was no need to fuse together and summon the χ-Blade for this to work, he could just take the brunette out the old-fashioned way! His heart had to be unfathomably strong to support the weight of at _least_ four other hearts alongside it, but the kid was still mortal. His heart wouldn’t protect him from a well-placed blade or noose.

His confidence reinvigorated, Vanitas sprinted down the hallway in search of anything he could use as a weapon. He was creative enough to macgyver something that would be of use to him in his morbid quest. He ducked his head inside each room he passed but only found multitudes of animated brooms and mops cleaning the place while their master slept. Vanitas was not one for piety, but he prayed that the master of the house didn’t cross paths with him. He didn’t know if he could summon the Void Gear while caged within someone else’s body, and he had no reason to assume that the brunette had any magical prowess of his own. He would be easily overpowered.

His elation continued to grow as he stumbled across a kitchen. The smell of home cooking caressed his nostrils as if someone had recently eaten there, although every surface was spotless to the point that he could’ve seen his own reflection in the polished marble. He had hit the jackpot! Who even knew what sort of deadly equipment was hidden from sight in any of those cabinets or drawers, concealed from prying eyes and just begging to be used on unsuspecting flesh. Vanitas set the candelabra down on the dining table so he could still see what he was doing, and shoved past a couple of the enchanted brooms that had tried to greet him, knocking one over in the process.

He was practically spoiled for choice. Should he use poison, something to stop his heart mid-beat? Should he fill a pot with water and dip his head inside until his lungs gave up? Could he climb on the counter and out a window and see what was veiled in the endless fog below? So many options, he barely knew where to start! Vanitas’ mind was made up for him as his eyes passed over a set of kitchen knives, glinting in the light and calling his name. He licked his lips in anticipation and grabbed the handle of the largest knife, unsheathing it from the rack and rotating the blade as the warm light from the candle bounced off the surface like a disco ball. It was perfect.

Vanitas could feel his heart racing, the fullness in his chest aching as the other hearts leeching off the brunette’s martyrdom practically vibrated as his excitement rose. He was about to be free. No more pain, no more Unversed, no more Ventus. He wouldn’t need to beg for a reason to exist anymore, he could fade away and no one would remember him and he couldn’t think of anything sweeter. His knuckled were white as he clung onto the blade, the only thing keeping him grounded. He was so close, he just had to take the plunge.

He lifted the knife to his neck, veins bulging under the skin, and prepared himself. He’d lived through so much suffering in his short life, what he was about to experience would pale in comparison. All he had to do was draw the blade across his jugular and he would have won. The two pairs of blue eyes that looked at him with such sadness would close forever.

So why couldn’t he do it.

**_Xemnas, there's more to a heart than just anger and hate. It's full of all kinds of feelings. Don't you remember?_ **

**_I see... Your Wayfinder broke. Well, don't worry. Friendship's more than an object._ **

Vanitas slammed the knife back into the counter in frustration, shaking the bench and filling the kitchen with the sound of jars plinking off each other.

“ _SHUT UP!”_ he demanded. “ _I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT!_ ”

He clenched his teeth until he felt as if his jaw would shatter, the voices becoming more and more muffled until eventually the only sound in the kitchen was his own heavy breathing. Vanitas knew that only one of the two voices belonged to Ventus, but the speakers blurred together until it become impossible to tell which was which. He suspected they were assaulting him on purpose, filling his head with static to keep him from sinking that blade into their shared neck, but the phrases were jumbled as if he was privy to two separate conversations at once. He could almost see four pale white arms holding his own hand back, as if the other hearts were aware of the danger they were in and were fighting Vanitas for control.

His heart jumped as something pointed and dangerous embedded itself into the back of his head.

“Put it down and turn around. **Now.** ”

Vanitas’ mouth ran dry. He swallowed deeply and forced his iron-clad grip on the knife to slacken, slowly resting it down on the marble counter below his fist. The hearts in his chest were suspiciously silent, leaving a gaping hole in their wake that echoed with his own thoughts like a cathedral. Moving slowly so as not to incur the wrath of his aggressor, he pivoted around with both hands in the air. Vanitas despised the thought of submitting to the orders of another, but he couldn’t allow this opportunity at freedom to be taken from him. Not again. Keeping his breathing under control, the raven Keyblade wielder firmly locked eyes with the threat in front of him.

It was…

Just some kid.

Vanitas couldn’t help but feel disappointment welling up in his chest at the realisation that the guy threatening him was just another insufferable punk. His long silver locks almost seemed to shimmer in the dim candlelight, messy from sleep and brushing past his tensed shoulders. His cyan eyes held a fierce and murderous glint like a tiger ready to snap at a moments notice. But most interesting was the weapon currently pointed directly between Vanitas’ eyes. A vicious looking bat wing tipped with a needle point was only inches from his face, clenched in the stranger’s right hand and embellished with a small angel wing. The individual feathers seemed to flutter in the flickering light.

“A Keyblade…” Vanitas mused out loud. Were they just handing these out now?!

“ **SHUT UP** ,” the silver-haired boy barked, his brow furrowing deeper as if he was physically holding himself back. “Don’t play games with me. Who are you, and what have you done with Sora?!”

Vanitas didn’t grace him with an answer, his gaze firmly glued to the tip of the blade that was inches from poking an eye out. The possibility of him encountering a _Keyblade wielder_ of all people that wasn’t one of the two remaining apprentices was so unfathomably small that he hadn’t even considered it, but it opened a whole slew of options. Even in the hand of the most inexperienced user, a Keyblade could still unlock a person’s heart, so if he could somehow disarm the brat he could use the weapon to free his heart and release himself from the prison he was currently in. Hell, if he could goad the kid to attack him, he wouldn’t even need to subject the Keyblade to his whims at all. It didn’t matter to him which of the two voices belonged to Ventus – he could drag both of them with him. He and Ventus would fuse and finally disappear like they were supposed to. The other one didn’t matter to him enough to consider the fate he would be forcing on it.

Vanitas didn’t need to take himself out, he could just have this guy do it for him.

“ANSWER ME! **I’LL KILL YOU!** ”

Vanitas was pulled back into reality as the Keyblade jutted another inch closer, almost grazing the skin between his eyebrows. The silver-haired boy was growing impatient with his lack of response, the controlled rage in his eyes replaced by something more feral and uncontrolled. Vanitas gave an evil smirk; he was making this too easy.

“ _Firstly_ ,” he began forcefully. “None of your business. Secondly, no idea who ‘Sora’ is. And thirdly-“

He confidently grabbed the tip of the Keyblade and forced it down, angling it straight at his chest.

“If you’re going to kill me, at least do it properly.”

Vanitas paused for a moment to give the boy a chance to impale him with his blade like he commanded, but the blow never came. His cyan eyes flickered with an emotion he couldn’t place, his fury tainted with confusion at the request to end his life. Vanitas growled to himself, growing frustrated that the boy wasn’t following his _extremely simply_ instructions. Keyblade wielders could be so dense, and their emotions so unpredictable.

“You’re…. **_not_** Roxas?” the silver-haired boy questioned, uncertainty clouding his voice as the grip on his Keyblade became less confident. Vanitas rolled his eyes.

“Are you _stupid?_ ” he sneered. “Come on, we don’t have all day. _Right_ between the ribs.”

He puffed out his chest in a show of bravado, the sharp tip of the bat-winged Keyblade digging into the skin of his chest as if he was inviting it to close the rest of the distance. The brat’s cyan eyes were now lined with fear, searching his face as if he was begging for a sign of recognition. He was too stunned to make the move to finish what he had threatened. Vanitas got the feeling they would be waiting for a long time, and asking politely clearly wasn’t going to get him anyway. He sneered and batted the Keyblade away from him nonchalantly, the kid’s grip now so loose that the weapon slipped out of his hand and clattered to the floor.

“ **Pathetic,** ” he snarled. “How did a snot-nosed kid like you even get a Keyblade. Well, whatever- “

Vanitas reached back behind him and grasped the knife that had patiently waited for him right where he left it. Still facing the silver-haired boy, he returned it to the skin on his neck and began to slide it across, deep enough to draw blood.

“-I’ll just do it myself.”

He didn’t even have a chance to blink before the boy snapped to his position and grabbed the arm holding the blade, twisting it sharply and forcing Vanitas to drop it with a cry of pain as the friction burn set in like acid. He spun around and dug his elbow into the chiselled cheeks of his aggressor, sending the silver-haired boy recoiling dizzily and releasing the hold on his arm. Funny that the brat who had threatened to kill him was now trying to stop exactly that from happening. Vanitas ducked down and swept the knife back up from the floor, jumping forward and slicing the blade through the air towards the other’s face. He reflexively leaned back enough for the singing blade to _just_ miss carving a chunk of flesh out of his cheek, the metal whistling as it zipped through the air. Now Vanitas was _pissed off_ he was more focused on killing the other boy than on killing himself.

Rearing his arm back, he stabbed the blade towards the Keyblade wielder in an attempt to sink the knife into his skull. The brat obviously had some combat experience and was quick enough to duck under the attack, the knife embedding itself in the wooden door of a cabinet and refusing to budge no matter how hard he tugged at it. The wind was knocked out of his lungs as a fist found itself in his stomach, sending him flying backwards with a gasp and landing hard on his back. Stars flew across his eyes as the back of his head bounced off the hard stone floor, but Vanitas refused to stay down.

“ _SORA!”_ the silver-haired boy screamed, retrieving his Keyblade from the floor as Vanitas pulled himself back to his feet. “I know you’re in there, fight back!”

Vanitas completely disregarded the outburst and harshly pulled one of the chairs from under the dining table and tossed it legs-first at the Keyblade wielder. He raised his weapon to deflect it, but the weight of the furniture was enough to catch him off guard. The blade remained in his hand, but it was enough to topple him over. Vanitas felt exhilaration powering through his veins at the thrill of the fight; not since facing his brother had he battled someone on equal ground. It was a feeling he had missed, but he still needed to end the fight quickly if he wanted any chance of victory.

Ignoring the stabbing pain in his right arm from the friction burn, he summoned the Void Gear and raised it above his head and brought it down hard, ready to find its place in the caved-in skull of his opponent. Riku raised his own Keyblade to deflect the blow, but Vanitas planned to put enough force behind his attack to even shatter the stone below-

Wait, who is Riku?

**_“Hey, what’s wrong?”_ **

**_Sora turned his head to look at Riku, shocked at the worry that marred his friend’s face. The two were heading back home after a long day of doing nothing, sparring in the sand of the beach and making up constellations in the sky above them. It was Riku who had decided to retreat for the night, and the brunette was more than ready to follow his lead as always. The boy held out an arm to stop Sora in in tracks and pointed to his face as a single tear squeezed its way out of his right eye and down his cheek. The tear trail glittered like diamonds under the icy moonlight, and Sora instinctively reached up and rubbed the liquid away._ **

**_“That’s weird,” he remarked. “It’s like something’s squeezing me inside…”_ **

**_Sora rested one hand over his heart. A deep sorrow radiated out across his chest, but he didn’t know why._ **

**_“Somebody up there must be sad,” Riku replied, indicating up at the stars in the sky above the two. “They say every world is connected by one great big sky, so maybe there’s somebody up there in all those worlds who’s really hurting, and they’re waiting for you to help them.”_ **

**_Sora fixated his eyes on the endless sky that stretched out above them, the stars twinkling at him as if they were in agreement with the words. Riku was always the more sensible of the two, and he spoke with such confidence that there was no reason to disbelieve him._ **

**_“Well gee, do you think there’s something I could do?”_ **

**_“Hmm…” Riku pondered for a moment, arms crossed as he considered the brunette’s desire to help. “Maybe they just need you to open your heart and listen.”_ **

**_Sora raised one eyebrow in confusion, but conceded._ **

**_“I dunno Riku, you say some weird stuff sometimes, but… I’ll try it.”_ **

**_His heart warmed at the gentle smile that crossed Riku’s face, and he turned his body back towards the ocean. The soft crashing of waves against the shore was always so soothing to him, so maybe it could do the same for whoever was calling for him. He closed his eyes and puffed out his chest, and reached out a hand to the source of the sadness. If there was anything he could do to ease the suffering of another, even someone he had never met before, then he was willing to give it his all._ **

**_Hey, can you hear me?_ **

It hurt. Someone was screaming, but he didn’t know which part of him. His Keyblade burned in his hand like hot coals, eating away at the skin on his palm until he couldn’t stand it any more and he let it drop to the floor. The silver metal of the blade and gold of the hilt were almost blinding with how brightly they glowed. Someone wouldn’t stop screaming, but he didn’t know which of the five parts of him it was. They wouldn’t stop screaming.

**_I heard your voice. It cut through the darkness around me._ **

**_All alone, I followed the sound into a sea of light and found myself here. With you._ **

**_You gave me something back when I needed it the most._ **

**_A second chance._ **

**_I did?_ **

**_But now… I have to go back to sleep again._ **

**_Are you sad?_ **

It hurt. It hurt.

**_Would you mind if I stayed here, with you?_ **

It hurt.

* * *

Riku knew there was something wrong with Sora before he even knew himself. 

He couldn’t deny that he hadn’t made the move back to Destiny Islands particularly  _easy,_ although it wasn’t intentional. At least, not entirely. Riku didn’t consider himself to be a very empathetic person but even his dense eyes could tell just how far the others were pushing to keep him included in their circle of friends. There was a pang of jealousy that shot through his heart like an arrow every time he saw Selphie, Tidus and Wakka acting like a trio without the others, but he tried to remind himself that he hadn’t been a part of the community for over two years. It had been so long that he was practically a stranger to them, and they were to him. 

Riku struggled every day with trying to find his place in the ecosystem of his homeworld. After spending what felt like an eternity submerged in the Realm of Darkness he didn’t have much in common with his friends any more. They were all still the same age, but he felt like an adult surrounded by toddlers, his stubborn yet cheerful demeanour replaced by something colder and darker that even he couldn’t put a name to. It was difficult to make light conversation with the people who should rightly hate him for casting their homes into darkness. The innocent and oblivious looks on their faces made him  _sick._  

Worst of all was when Sora gave him that same look. Even after all he’d put his best friend through, Sora still couldn’t bring himself to hate Riku. That just made Riku hate himself more. 

There were days when Riku just wanted to leave; vanish into a dark corridor and never return. He had accepted the darkness in his own heart as part of who he was now, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still haunted by it. Instead of using the face of Ansem, his darkness took the face of the friends he’d tossed away like broken toys. Mickey could tell him that he needed to forgive himself, that he had already paid back what he owed tenfold, but Riku didn’t know how. Some days it was tolerable, the warm sand and salty breeze soothing his heart and reviving the child inside of him that never got to live. Some days weren’t as good. 

He had done it for Sora. Riku was perfectly content to live his life as a nomad, hopping between worlds at the slightest whim and correcting all the mistakes that he’d sowed along the way, but the brunette was cause for concern. He knew he wasn’t the only one who had seen it either – Kairi, the King, even Aerith and  _Hayner_  of all people had offloaded their worries on to the silver-haired boy. It was barely noticeable at first; the glassy, absent gaze that clouded Sora’s eyes followed by confusion and malaise could simply be a sign of exhaustion. The brunette had a tendency to take every call for help personally, and trying to force him to get a decent night’s sleep was becoming more and more impossible. 

Then the sleepwalking started, and the excuses quickly ran dry. 

Riku couldn’t place a finger on when the problem began to get out of control, just yet another of his failings. To begin with the reports almost mirrored each other, detailing how Sora had awoken late at night and wandered around with a far-off look in his eyes, completely unresponsive to outside stimuli. There was no purpose to his motions, so simply locking the brunette in his room was enough to prevent the unconscious Keyblade wielder from wandering off a bridge and hurting himself. Unusual behaviour for Sora but pretty standard as far as sleepwalking went.

Then the reports took an alarming turn: Sora went from a mindless zombie to almost appearing fully awake, interacting with things around him but not recognising his own name. Soon locking his door wasn’t enough as he would nimbly escape out a window, he would even speak as if someone else was using his voice, expressions crossing his face at random. He would suddenly snap out of his stupor, consumed with panic and inconsolable as if he had been wrenched back from the edge and into a body that wasn’t his. He would inevitably calm down and his bright smile would return, but it was a far cry from the placid state he would enter into before.

Mickey and Riku didn’t always see eye to eye, both literally and figuratively, but they were in accordance over Sora’s deteriorating condition. They had to delay the Mark of Mastery. Sora was growing more and more exhausted as sleep evaded him, even the nights when he remained in his bed no longer enough to make up for the time spent wandering around as a puppet without strings. The threat posed by Xehanort was approaching rapidly and the duo desperately needed to pass their training if they had any hopes of beating him, but the risk posed to Sora’s health far outweighed the urgency.

Sora had refused, just as Riku expected him to. The brunette spoke emphatically about the message left by Naminé: _their hurting will be mended when you return to end it._ They already knew that Roxas continued to live on inside the heart of his Other, and DiZ had been using it to hide his research for who knows how long, so who was to say just how deep the rabbit hole went? How many hearts were connected to Sora’s to the point where he had become the pivot around which the rest of the world turned? He couldn’t help the hearts trapped inside of him by resting, he needed to fight. He _wanted_ to fight.

Riku didn’t have it in him to refuse.

He knew the King was unhappy, but there was just no talking Sora down from the ledge when he had his mind set on something. The two had at least agreed to a compromise, setting up shop inside the Mysterious Tower to make preparations before the Mark of Mastery began in earnest. Riku expected Kairi to take the news badly, but she was surprisingly on board with the idea. The red head refused to go into details about the last time Sora had gone sleepwalking, only that she had found him at _that_ island and brought him home, but he could pick out the concern in her eyes. Sora was safest surrounded by competent fighters.

The fact that she still trusted him around her best friend never stopped hurting.

Riku still clung on to the possibility that his worries were baseless. They already knew that Roxas continued whatever sham of an existence he had within Sora’s heart, so the idea that he was somehow taking control over Sora’s body while he slept was not out of the realm of possibility. There was little way of knowing how loyal the Nobody still was to Xehanort, so the idea that he might run off with Sora’s body in the middle of the night and deliver it to their biggest foe was _also_ not out of the realm of possibility. Riku got the impression that the King only gave his consent to proceeding with the exam because he would be accompanying the brunette, and he was one of the few people who could reliably take Sora in a one-on-one if he switched sides.

Riku had lived through that reality himself once before. He had no intention of allowing Sora to tread the same path that he had once taken.

He wasn’t sure what was different that night, but he had woken in a cold sweat. Riku was used to surviving off minimal sleep – the Realm of Darkness wasn’t exactly a place where one could sleep peacefully, lest a stray Shadow tear his heart away before he had a chance to react – and he had developed a habit of sleeping fully clothed in case he was called to action with little notice. Sora often did the same; it was just a curse of their profession. His nights were generally dreamless, focused solely on repairing the damage that he inflicted on his body every day, but that night was different. His dreams were filled with Sora’s voice, echoing off empty walls until he could swear it sounded like four people crying out to him.

They were all calling out for help.

Riku wasn’t one to disregard an omen like that. He threw himself out of bed and dashed towards Sora’s room, Way to the Dawn already summoned in one hand in preparation of the worst-case scenario. He didn’t know why, but his heart was pounding in his chest and he was sweating with fear. Sora was legendarily stubborn, so if his dream wasn’t just a figment of his exhausted mind then something must be _very_ wrong for his friend to admit that he needed help. His fear grew exponentially as he rounded the corner, almost ploughing through a couple of enchanted brooms that could only be described as running away from something.

The next thing he noticed was the mirror. Someone had uncovered it and shattered the glass, the floor now lined with tiny glass fragments and streaks of ruby red blood. If Riku gazed at his reflection in the glass he could envisage the Keyblade unleashing its ultimate power for him, but in its broken state it was completely silent as if the magic that powered the mirror had been stifled. The glass was partly swept into a pile, no doubt by the brooms he ran past before, but why had they abandoned their task when it was clearly still incomplete?

“ _SHUT UP! I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT!_ ”

Riku almost hit the ceiling with fright at the powerful voice that reverberated down the empty hallway. It was gravelly and dark and commanded such power that he almost swore Ansem had returned for him, but it sounded far too young. At least he knew his dream was not without purpose. Clenching the Way to the Dawn in his hand, he sprinted down the hallway as fast as his legs would carry him. The Keyblade wielder didn’t care for how much noise he was making, only concerned with closing the gap between himself and the source of the yelling before it was too late.

He almost allowed himself to feel relief at the sight of Sora in the kitchen, until he saw the knife in his hand.

There was a moment of gratitude towards the fact that the brunette was still in the tower so could be restrained if necessary, but Riku wasn’t wholly convinced that the boy in front of him was really Sora. His hunched back was tense with anger, his knuckles white with their grip on the hilt of the knife and streaked with blood from the mirror. Even his breathing was heavy as if he’d been exerting himself, despite the fact that he was alone in the room. Suspicion filled Riku’s mind as he approached the boy’s back, moving quietly so to not disturb his target. If indeed the person in front of him was someone other than the brunette, he needed to get the drop on him to have the upper ground.

He raised his Keyblade and rested the pointed tip of the bat wing against Sora’s scalp, not enough to hurt but enough to alert him of the other’s presence. His posture immediately stiffened, back straightening out as the brunette realised too late that he was no longer alone in the kitchen. Riku forced himself to distance his actions from his emotions – this was still his best friend and the idea of threatening him made him feel unwell.

“Put it down and turn around. **Now.** ”

Riku was a little surprised at the confidence in his own voice, but Sora ceded to his commands. The knife slipped from his grasp, although the tension in his posture refused to dissipate. Riku took a step back to allow Sora to face him, both hands in the air in a sign of submission. His sea-blue eyes almost reflected a sickly yellow in the low candlelight as the two finally made eye contact, but it was like looking at a stranger. The silver-haired boy’s heart sank at the knowledge that he was right, the person in front of him was using Sora’s body but he was not in the presence of his friend’s heart. Riku never felt so devastated to be right.

Sora barely seemed to register his friend in front of him, eyes locked on to the tip of the Keyblade jammed into his face. It was as if he had never seen a Keyblade before, despite owning more than one of his own and being one of only two people known to dual wield. A hunger resided in the brunette’s eyes as he completely ignored Riku’s presence, captivated by the blade as if nothing else existed to him.

“A Keyblade…” Sora muttered to himself. Riku was growing impatient.

“ **SHUT UP** ,” he growled fiercely, having to physically restrain himself from lunging forward and attacking whoever had stolen Sora’s body from him. “Don’t play games with me. Who are you, and what have you done with Sora?!”

Sora didn’t even respond to his own name, something that Riku knew was a running theme with his sleepwalking. Something about this felt _very_ different from what the others had reported – no one else had been able to get the brunette to respond to their voice in a meaningful way. If it wasn’t for his unusual and suspicious behaviour Riku would’ve sworn that Sora was fully awake. Thankfully he had known to expect the worst, otherwise he might have left Sora to his own devices. He didn’t want to think about what would have happened with that knife had he arrived a moment too late. His controlled anger was quickly becoming eclipsed with an animalistic rage towards however had stolen Sora’s body, and the lack of response was pushing him closer to the edge.

“ANSWER ME! **I’LL KILL YOU!** ”

Riku jabbed his Keyblade closer, almost enough to prick the skin in between Sora’s eyes. He didn’t like that his enemy wasn’t taking him as a serious threat, so maybe he needed a reminder. Sora flinched at the sudden movement before a sadist grin crossed his face, warping his features until he could barely recognise his own friend. It was an expression that was so foreign to the brunette that Riku had no idea he was even capable of conveying such malice.

“ _Firstly_ ,” Sora finally responded, spitting out his words like he was speaking to an infant. “None of your business. Secondly, no idea who ‘Sora’ is. And thirdly-“

He confidently grabbed the tip of the Keyblade and forced it down, angling it straight at his chest.

“If you’re going to kill me, at least do it properly.”

Riku could only blink in response, his wrath suddenly replaced with confusion. Sora confirmed his suspicions that someone was using his body in his place, but why would _anyone_ want to steal another person’s body and then ask to be cast out of it? What even was the point of that? Riku couldn’t fathom the stranger’s motives for such a thing, unless he was trying to get him to kill Sora by proxy. Even Roxas, who had fought Riku right up until the end, had willing merged with Sora so he could be woken from his year-long coma. The likelihood of the blonde Nobody puppeteering Sora’s body around was becoming more and more remote.

“You’re…. **_not_** Roxas?” the silver-haired boy questioned, uncertainty clouding his voice as the grip on his Keyblade became less confident. Sora huffed and rolled his eyes, not even responding to the name of his Nobody.

“Are you _stupid?_ ” he sneered. “Come on, we don’t have all day. _Right_ between the ribs.”

Sora puffed out his chest as if encouraging the blade to pierce his skin and embed itself in his chest. Riku was so overwhelmed with confusion that he was unable to move. He had been so certain that the cause of Sora’s sleepwalking was Roxas that he hadn’t considered the possibility of his problems arising from someone else. Someone that Riku didn’t know. The snappy manner of speaking reminded him so much of Ansem, all those times that he had whispered into his ears and led him down a dark and dangerous path, but there was a level of arrogance that set it aside. This person was dangerous, and they knew it.

Even though he knew this person was openly giving him the option of ridding his friend of his influence, Riku couldn’t do it. He couldn’t raise his Keyblade against Sora, not again.

Sora sneered at his weakness and batted the Keyblade out of his face, ripping it from Riku’s slackened grip and sending the weapon clattering to the floor. Riku had fought so hard, jumped through so many hoops to prove that he had overcome his weaknesses and was still a worthy Keyblade wielder, but it wasn’t enough. How could he hope to become a Keyblade Master if he couldn’t even protect his friend?

“ **Pathetic,** ” Sora snarled. “How did a snot-nosed kid like you even get a Keyblade. Well, whatever- “

He nonchalantly reached behind him and picked up the knife that was still resting on the counter. Riku remained frozen in shock, but the sight of the blade stirred up something inside of him that told him he needed to act _now,_ that the situation was about to go in a direction that he did _not_ want it to _._ The brunette raised the knife to his own neck as began to slide the serrated blade across the skin, a trickle of blood leaking from the wound and tainting his complexion.

“ -I’ll just do it myself.”

The vision of Sora’s blood leaking down his neck was finally enough for Riku to snap. He leapt forward and grabbed the brunette’s arm and twisted it, putting strain on his elbow and forcing him to drop the knife as he wailed in pain. It was a sound that Riku had prayed he would never experience again, but Sora would have to forgive him later. If it was necessary right now, then he would do what it took to save Sora from himself. Sora responded by wildly shoving his other elbow into Riku’s face, banging against his nose and freeing the vice-like grip the Keyblade wielder had on his arm.

Riku managed to steady his backwards fall just in time to jerk his head back, allowing the knife that Sora had picked back up to skim past his face. It was so close he could almost see his own reflection in the metal blade, stained red from the blood that coated it. He ducked away from the out-of-control brunette as he attempted to sink the blade into Riku’s eye socket, the blade instead now trapped within the shards of the wooden cabinet behind him. As Sora tried and failed to free the weapon, Riku saw the rabid look on his best friend’s face, an incomprehensible rage combined with undeniable joy.

He truly believed that Sora would murder him if he was given the chance.

Riku punched Sora in the stomach as hard as he could manage before the crazed brunette could pull the knife out of the cabinet, knocking all the wind out of him and sending him flying backwards. He shook his fist as the cramps from the blow set in, and used the opportunity to retrieve his Keyblade from the floor. He didn’t want to use it for fear of unlocking Sora’s heart and turning him back into a Heartless, but his friend wasn’t giving him a whole lot of other options. The weight of the weapon in his fist calmed his thoughts a little, returning some of the logic that had escaped him in the scuffle. He knew his friend was still in there somewhere; Sora had the strongest heart of anyone he’d ever met. If he had truly called out to him in his sleep, then maybe he could return the favour.

“S _ORA!”_ the silver-haired boy screamed, both with his mouth and with his heart. “I know you’re in there, fight back!”

It was a desperate plea, but Riku believed in Sora with all of his heart. For a moment he felt something respond to his call, four voices calling out in unison, but they were so quiet he could barely make them out. Sora used the opportunity to lob a chair at Riku while he was stationary, a move that was so dirty that it was hard to believe the righteous brunette was behind such tactics. He was able to deflect the furniture with his Keyblade, his grip renewed in its strength after it was disarmed by the boy before, but Riku still ended up on his back. Sora’s movements were so unpredictable that he was barely able to react in time.

His eyes met with Sora’s once more as he stood him, Kingdom Key in hand and an ugly sadistic grin on his face. He lifted the Keyblade above his head, ready to impale the silver-haired boy into the ground where he lay. Even when faced with his own demise, Riku couldn’t bring himself to use his own weapon on his best friend. He squeezed his eyes shut and prepared for the feeling of the final blow, the one that would take his life.

It never came.

Riku thought at first that the screaming was in his own head, the last gasp of a dying heart, but when he finally mustered up the bravery to open his eyes and face his fate he saw that it was coming from _Sora._ The brunette had thrown the Kingdom Key to one side, the hilt practically glowing with the heat it was emitting, and was screaming at the top of his lungs. His hands covered his face like he was trying to gouge his own eyes out, staggering backwards and barely finding the time to breathe. It was like the cries of a wounded animal, cornered and frightened beyond belief. Riku wanted to cry.

Instead he jumped to his feet and **punched** Sora in the face as hard as he could.

The wailing was immediately silenced as Sora crumpled to the floor, his body hitting the exposed stone of the floor with a dull thump. He didn’t get back up.

Riku let out a heavy sigh and allowed his body to sink to the floor, the adrenaline that had been holding him upright finally releasing its grasp on his body. He didn’t have the energy to remain upright, instead lying on his back and feeling the cold stone against his skin. Somehow it was a painful reminder that he wasn’t dreaming, that he was really here and he had really just attacked his best friend. Only the gentle rising and falling of Sora’s chest gave him any release from the existential weight that sat on top of him and crushed his heart.

Well, that definitely wasn’t Roxas.

Allowing the Way to the Dawn to dissipate, he ran his fingers through his now messy silver hair. He hadn’t realised how much he was sweating in fear until he was given the chance to pause and consider it. Riku still didn’t really know what had just taken place between the two Keyblade wielder, but his mind wandered back to Naminé’s parting words, left for them in Jiminy’s Journal and deciphered by their own data incarnations: _their hurting will be mended when you return to end it._

Riku didn’t know if whatever had seized control of Sora’s body and tried to murder him in cold blood really deserved to be saved, but he now knew more than ever that Sora was right. They needed to complete the Mark of Mastery. As much as he hated the idea of putting Sora in that much danger, the episodes were only going to get worse as time went on. Either they needed to vacate Sora’s heart of all its stowaways, or Riku needed to become strong enough that he could beat Sora in combat every time he lost control of his heart.

Riku didn’t like either option, but it was the only two he had.

* * *

It was OK.

Vanitas had waited for longer than this. He could wait a little more.

Xehanort had taken him back. Said he wanted him to be part of the Organization. Said he would give him Ventus. They could go free.

It was OK. It wasn’t over.

**Not by a long shot.**


End file.
